In midmost length of hundred-citied Crete, The land that cradl'd Zeus, of old renown, Where grave Demeter nurseried her wheat, And Minos fashion'd law, ere he went down To judge the quaking hordes of Hell's domain, There dwelt a King on the Omphalian plain Eastward of Ida, in a little town. 2 Three daughters had this King, of whom my tale Time hath preserved, that loveth to despise The wealth which men misdeem of much avail, Their glories for themselves that they devise; For clerkly is he, old hard-featured Time, And poets' fabl'd song and lovers' rhyme He storeth on his shelves to please his eyes. 3 These three princesses all were fairest fair; And of the elder twain 'tis truth to say That if they stood not high above compare, Yet in their prime they bore the palm away; Outwards of loveliness; but Nature's mood, Gracious to make, had grudgingly endued And marr'd by gifting ill the beauteous clay. 4 And being in honour they were well content To feed on lovers' looks and courtly smiles, To hang their necks with jewel'd ornament, And gold, that vanity in vain beguiles, And live in gaze, and take their praise for due, To be the fairest maidens then to view Within the shores of Greece and all her isles. 5 But of that youngest one, the third princess, There is no likeness; since she was as far From pictured beauty as is ugliness, Though on the side where heavenly wonders are, Ideals out of being and above, Which music worshippeth, but if love love, 'Tis, as the poet saith, to love a star. 6 Her vision rather drave from passion's heart What earthly soil it had afore possest; Since to man's purer unsubstantial part The brightness of her presence was addrest: And such as mock'd at God, when once they saw Her heavenly glance, were humbl'd, and in awe Of things unseen, return'd to praise the Best. 7 And so before her, wheresoe'er she went, Hushing the crowd a thrilling whisper ran, And silent heads were reverently bent; Till from the people the belief began That Love's own mother had come down on earth, Sweet Cytherea, or of mortal birth A greater Goddess was vouchsaf't to man. 8 Then Aphrodite's statue in its place Stood without worshippers; if Cretans pray'd For beauty or for children, love or grace, The prayer and vow were offer'd to the maid; Unto the maid their hymns of praise were sung, Their victims bled for her, for her they hung Garland and golden gift, and none forbade. 9