"I stood Long time uncertain, and at length turned round And gazed upon my love. He lay asleep, And ah, how fair he was! The flickering light Fell on the fairest of the gods, stretched out In happy slumber. Looking on his locks Of gold, and faultless face and smile, and limbs Made perfect, a great joy and trembling took me Who was most blest of women, and in awe And fear I stooped to kiss him. One warm drop From the full lamp within my trembling hand, Fell on his shoulder." [Footnote: From Epic of Hades by Lewis Morris] Cupid awoke, looked with startled eyes at his wife, and reading aright the story of the lamp and the dagger, spread his wings and flew through the open window, saying sadly: "Farewell! There is no love except with Faith, And thine is dead! Farewell! I come no more!" Weeping and calling out to her husband, Psyche ran out of doors into the black, stormy night. To the edge of the garden she ran, and then, in her grief and terror she swooned. When she awakened, the palace and garden had vanished, but Psyche cared little for that; henceforth her only care was to seek her husband. Encountering on her wanderings the kindly Ceres, Psyche implored her help; but Ceres could give her no aid except advice. "The gods must stand by each other," she said. "If Venus is angered at thee, I can give thee no aid. This, though, thou mayst do: Go to Venus, submit thyself unto her, and perhaps thou mayst win her favor." At the temple of Venus, Psyche encountered that goddess, the cause of all her misfortunes; and right glad was Venus to have the once proud maiden for her humble slave. "Many are the tasks thou canst perform for me," said the disdainful goddess, "if them art not as stupid as thou art ugly. Here is a simple little task to begin upon." She led Psyche to the storehouse of the temple and pointed out to her a great heap of grain--wheat, barley, poppy seeds, beans and millet. "When I return at evening," she commanded, "have each sort of grain in a heap by itself." The luckless girl knew that the work could not be accomplished in the time allowed her, and she made, therefore, no attempt to begin it. As she sat with her head in her hands, she heard a faint sound, as if the grain were being stirred about, and looking up, she saw that the ants had come in vast numbers and were sorting it out. Fascinated, she watched them, until long before evening the task was done. "Thou couldst never have done this by thyself, lazy one," exclaimed Venus, on her return. "To-morrow I will see whether thou art indeed able to do anything. Beyond the river which flows past my temple are golden-fleeced sheep, roaming without a shepherd. Do thou bring to me a portion of their fleece."