Demeter answer'd, 'Nay, though thou constrain My favour with thy plea, my help must still Be hidden, else I work for thee in vain To thwart my mighty sister in her will. Thou must fly hence: Yet though I not oppose, Less will I aid her; and if now I close My temple doors to thee, take it not ill.' 16 Then Psyche's hope founder'd; as when a ship, The morrow of the gale can hardly ride The swollen seas, fetching a deeper dip At every wave, and through her gaping side And o'er her shattered bulwark ever drinks, Till plunging in the watery wild she sinks, To scoop her grave beneath the crushing tide: 17 So with each word her broken spirit drank Its doom; and overwhelm'd with deep despair She turn'd away, and coming forth she sank Silently weeping on the temple stair, In midmost night, forspent with long turmoil: But sleep, the gracious pursuivant of toil, Came swiftly down, and nursed away her care. 18 And when the sun awaked her with his beams She found new hope, that still her sorrow's cure Lay with the gods, who in her morning dreams Had sent her comfort in a vision sure; Wherein the Cretan-born, almightiest god, Cloud-gathering Zeus himself had seem'd to nod, And bid her with good heart her woes endure. 19 So coming that same day unto a shrine Of Hera, she took courage and went in: And like to one that to the cell divine For favour ventures or a suit to win, She drew anigh the altar, from her face Wiping the tears, ere to the heavenly grace, As thus she pray'd, she would her prayer begin. 20 'Most honour'd Lady, who from ancient doom Wert made heaven's wife, and art on earth besought With gracious happiness of all to whom Thy holy wedlock hath my burden brought, Save me from Aphrodite's fell pursuit, And guard unto the birth Love's hapless fruit, Which she for cruel spite would bring to nought. 21 'As once from her thou wert not shamed to take Her beauty's zone, thy beauty to enhance; For which again Zeus loved thee, to forsake His warlike ire in faithful dalliance; Show me what means may win my Love to me, Or how that I may come, if so may be, Within the favour of his countenance. 22 'If there be any place for tears or prayer, If there be need for succour in distress, Now is the very hour of all despair, Here is the heart of grief and bitterness. Motherly pity, bend thy face and grant One beam of ruth to thy poor suppliant, Nor turn me from thine altar comfortless.' 23