Renounce the spells of this accursed vale. We come to save thee, but we dare not stay; Among these sightless spirits our senses quail. Fly with us, fly!' Then Psyche, for her soul Was soft and simple, lost her self-control, And, thinking only of the horrid tale, 10 'Dear sisters,' said she, and her sobbing speech Was broken by her terror, 'it is true That much hath hapt to stablish what ye teach; For ne'er hath it been granted me to view My husband; and, for aught I know, he may Be even that cruel dragon, which ye say Peer'd at you from the forest to pursue. 11 ''Tis sure that scarcely can I win his grace To see you here; and still he mischief vows If ever I should ask to see his face, Which, coming in the dark, he ne'er allows. Therefore, if ye can help, of pity show, Since doubt I must, how I may come to know What kind of spirit it is that is my spouse.' 12 Then to her cue the younger was afore: 'Hide thou a razor,' cried she, 'near thy bed; And have a lamp prepared, but whelm thereo'er Some cover, that no light be from it shed. And when securely in first sleep he lies, Look on him well, and ere he can arise, Gashing his throat, cut off his hideous head.' 13 Which both persuading, off they flew content, Divining that whate'er she was forbid Was by her lover for her safety meant, Which only coud be sure while he was hid. But Psyche, to that miserable deed Being now already in her mind agreed, Wander'd alone, and knew not what she did. 14 Now she would trust her lover, now in turn Made question of his bidding as unjust; But thirsting curiosity to learn His secret overcame her simple trust, O'ercame her spoken troth, o'ercame her fear; And she prepared, as now the hour drew near, The mean contrivances, nor felt disgust. 15 She set the lamp beneath a chair, and cloked Thickly its rebel lustre from the eye: And laid the knife, to mortal keenness stroked, Within her reach, where she was wont to lie: And took her place full early; but her heart Beat fast, and stay'd her breath with sudden start, Feeling her lover's arm laid fond thereby. 16 But when at last he slept, then she arose, All faint and tremulous: and though it be That wrong betrayeth innocence with shews Of novelty, its guilt from shame to free, Yet 'twas for shame her hand so strangely shook That held the steel, and from the cloke that took The lamp, and raised it o'er the bed to see. 17 She had some fear she might not well discern By that small flame a monster in the gloom; When lo! the air about her seem'd to burn, And bright celestial radiance fill'd the room. Too plainly O she saw, O fair to see! Eros, 'twas Eros' self, her lover, he, The God of love, reveal'd in deathless bloom.