But as a dead stone, from a height let fall, Silent and straight is gather'd by the force Of earth's vast mass upon its weight so small, In speed increasing as it nears its source Of motion--by which law all things soe'er Are clutch'd and dragg'd and held--so fell she there, Like a dead stone, down in her headlong course. 28 The disregardful silence heard her strike Upon the solid crags; her dismal shriek Rang on the rocks and died out laughter-like Along the vale in hurried trebles weak; And soon upon her, from their skiey haunt Fell to their feast the great birds bald and gaunt And gorged on her fair flesh with bloody beak. 29 But Psyche, when her sister was gone forth, Went out again her wandering way to take: And following a stream that led her north, After some days she pass'd the Corian Lake, Whereby Athena's temple stands, and he Who traverses the isle from sea to sea May by the plain his shortest journey make: 30 Till on the northern coast arrived she came Upon a city built about a port, The which she knew, soon as she heard the name, Was where her elder sister had her court; To whom, as Eros had commanded her, She now in turn became the messenger Of vengeful punishment, that fell not short: 31 For she too hearing gan her heart exalt, Nor pity felt for Psyche's tears and moans, But, fellow'd with that other in her fault, Follow'd her to her fate upon the stones; And from the peak leaping like her below The self-same way unto the self-same woe, Lay dasht to death upon her sister's bones. THIRD QUARTER AUTUMN PSYCHE'S WANDERINGS SEPTEMBER 1 On the Hellenic board of Crete's fair isle, Westward of Drepanon, along a reach Which massy Cyamum for many a mile Jutting to sea delivers from the breach Of North and East,--returning to embay The favour'd shore--an ancient city lay, Aptera, which is _Wingless_ in our speech. 2 And hence the name; that here in rocky cove, Thence called Museion, was the trial waged What day the Sirens with the Muses strove, By jealous Hera in that war engaged: Wherein the daughters of Mnemosynè O'ercame the chauntresses who vex'd the sea, Nor vengeance spared them by their pride enraged. 3 For those strange creatures, who with women's words And wiles made ravenous prey of passers-by, Were throated with the liquid pipe of birds: Of love they sang; and none, who sail'd anigh Through the grey hazes of the cyanine sea, Had wit the whirlpool of that song to flee, Nor fear'd the talon hook'd and feather'd thigh. 4