III.-TO PSYCHE.

(ODE I.)

(As revised for "The Poetry of Real Life." 1844.) First made immortal by Apuleius in his "Golden Ass," the classical story of Psyche and Cupid has exercised a strange fascination over' poets of all lands and languages. Psyche is made to represent the human soul as embodied in woman, and Cupid, heavenly love ås embodied in man. They are united under the condition (itself a subtle fancy) that their entire intercourse is to be limited to night and darkness, under the inexorable penalty on either of separation on any attempt to see one or other with the bodily eyes. Anger and Desire tempt Psyche to violate the bond of union, and, bearing a lit lamp with her, she enters their bed-chamber and gazes on the sleeping Cupid, but only to lose him.-A. B. G. ET not a sigh be breathed, or he is flown!

L

With tip-toe stealth she glides, and throbbing breast
Towards the bed, like one who dares not own
Her purpose to herself, yet cannot rest
From her rash essay in her trembling hand
She bears a lamp, which sparkles on a sword:
In the dim light she seems a wandering dream
Of loveliness: 'tis Psyche and her lord,
Her yet unseen, who slumbers like a beam
Of moonlight, vanishing as soon as scann'd!
One moment, and all bliss hath fled her heart;
She with her eyes the vision will dispel,
And break the dreamy charm no magic art
Can e'er replace; alas! we learn full well
How beautiful the Past but to deplore;

While with seal'd eyes we hurry to the brink,
Blind as the waterfall: oh, stay thy feet,
Thou rash one! let thine eye not covet more
Of bliss than thy heart feels, nor vainly think
That sight will make thy vision more complete!

Onward she glides, and gliding, doth infuse
Her beauty into the dim air, that fain
Would dally with it; and, as the faint hues
Flicker around, her charmèd eye-balls strain;
For there he lies in dreamy loveliness!

Softly she steals towards him, and bends o'er
His eyes, sleep-curtained, as a lily droops
Faint o'er a folded rose: one meek caress

She would, but dares not take; and as she stoops
A drop fell from the lamp, she trembling, bore.

Thereat, sleep-fray'd, dreamlike the god takes wing,
And soars to his own skies, while Psyche strives
To clasp his foot, and fain thereon would cling
But falls insensate; so must he who gives
His love to sensual forms sink still to earth;
Whose soul doth cater to a wanton eye.
Psyche thou should'st have taken that high gift
Of love, as it was meant, that mystery

Had use divine; the gods do test our worth,
And, ere they grant high boons, our hearts would sift!

Hadst thou no divine vision of thine own?
Didst thou not see the object of thy love
Clothed with a beauty to mere sense unknown?
And could not that bright image, far above
The reach of sere decay, content thy thought?
Which with its glory would have wrapp'd thee round,
To the grave's brink, untouched by age or pain!
Alas! we mar what Fancy's womb has brought
Of loveliest forth, and to the narrow bound

Of sense reduce the Helen of the brain!

ΙΟ

(ODE II.)

WHY stand'st thou thus at gaze

In the faint taper's rays,

With strainèd eyeballs fixed upon that bed?

Has he then flown away,

Lost, like a star in day,

Or like a pearl in depths unfathomèd?
Alas! thou hast done very ill,

Thus with thine eyes the vision of thy soul to kill

Thought'st thou that earthly light

Could then assist thy sight?

Or that the limits of reality

Could grasp things fairer than

Imagination's span,

Who communes with the angels of the sky?

Thou graspest at the rainbow, and

Would'st make it as the zone with which thy waist is spann'd !

And what find'st thou in his stead?

Only the empty bed!

And what is that when no more hallowed by

Imagination? a mere sty

For Sensualism to wallow in,

To which thy fault is near akin;

Thou sought'st the earthly and therefore

The heavenly is gone, for that must ever soar !

For the bright world of

Pure and boundless love

What hast thou found? alas! a narrow room

Put out that light,

Restore thy soul its sight,

For better 'tis to dwell in outward gloom,
Than thus, by the vile body's eye,
To rob the soul of its infinity!

Love, Love has wings, and he
Soon out of sight will flee,
Lost in far ether to the sensual eye,
But the soul's vision true

Can track him, yea! up to

The Presence and the Throne of the Most High :
For thence he is, and tho' he dwell below,
To the soul only he his genuine form will show !

Oh Psyche, Psyche, 'tis by our own thought That Heaven's gifts to fit use must be wrought, But what the soul itself can scarcely grasp, Thou in thine arms wouldst sensually clasp !

SELECTED SONNETS.

HENRY ELLISON.

1.-THE DAY'S EYE.

(FROM "MAD MOMENTS.")

WEET flower! thou art a link of memory,

SWEET nower! thou art t of bright days flown;

And in thy silence, too, there is a tone That stirs the inmost soul, more potently Than if a trumpet's voice had rent the sky! I love thee much, for when I stray alone, Stealing from Nature her calm thoughts, which own No self-disturbance, and my curious eye Catches thy magic glance, methinks a spell

Has touched my soul; once more I grow a boy; Once more my thoughts, that as a passing-bell, Seemed to toll o'er departed shapes of joy, Change to old chimes, and in my bosom swell Fresh pulses of a bliss without alloy.

II.-THE ALP ROSE.

(FROM "MAD MOMENTS.")

[AST Thou not bade the Alp Rose bloom to Thee

HAST

All-bounteous God! though mortal foot has rare
Or never trod the eternal snows, which there
Worship Thee silently; nor curious eye
Sought in the wilderness Thy testimony?
Let us not idly deem that aught in air
Or earth is barren beauty, so it bear

A witness unto Thee; 'tis hallowed by
That thought, and has a moral beauty far

Beyond the pomp of thrones! That lone flower might
Emblem true piety; which, like a star,
Dwells 'mid a privacy of modest light,
Blessing unseen, unnoticed 'mid the glare;
Her sole reward, the bliss of acting right.