Far off a gloomy mountain rose alone: And Aphrodite, thither pointing, said 'There lies thy task. Out of the topmost stone Of yonder hill upwells a fountain head. Take thou this goblet; brimming must thou bring Its cup with water from that sacred spring, If ever to my son thou wouldst be wed.' 20 Saying, she gave into her hands a bowl Cut of one crystal, open, broad and fair; And bade her at all hazard keep it whole, For heaven held nought beside so fine or rare. Then was she gone; and Psyche on the plain Now doubted if she ever should regain The love of Eros, strove she howsoe'er. 21 Yet as a helmsman, at the word to tack, Swiftly without a thought puts down his helm, So Psyche turn'd to tread that desert black, Since was no fear that coud her heart o'erwhelm; Nor knew she that she went the fount to seek Of cold Cocytus, springing to the peak, Secretly from his source in Pluto's realm. 22 All night and day she journey'd, and at last Come to the rock gazed up in vain around: Nothing she saw but precipices vast O'er ruined scarps, with rugged ridges crown'd: And creeping to a cleft to rest in shade, Or e'er the desperate venture she assay'd, She fell asleep upon the stony ground. 23 A dream came to her, thus: she stood alone Within her palace in the high ravine; Where nought but she was changed, but she to stone. Worshippers throng'd the court, and still were seen Folk flying from the peak, who, ever more Flying and flying, lighted on the floor, _Hail!_ cried they, _wife of Eros, adorèd queen_! 24 A hurtling of the battl'd air disturb'd Her sunken sense, and waked her eyes to meet The kingly bird of Zeus, himself that curb'd His swooping course, alighting at her feet; With motion gentle, his far-darting eye In kindness dim'd upon her, he drew nigh, And thus in words unveil'd her foe's deceit: 25 'In vain, poor Psyche, hast thou hither striven Across the fiery plain toiling so well; Cruelly to destruction art thou driven By her, whose hate thou canst not quit nor quell. No mortal foot may scale this horrid mount, And those black waters of its topmost fount Are guarded by the hornèd snakes of hell. 26 'Its little rill is an upleaping jet Of cold Cocytus, which for ever licks Earth's base, and when with Acheron 'tis met, Its waters with that other cannot mix, Which holds the elemental air dissolved; But with it in its ceaseless course revolved Issues unmingl'd in the lake of Styx. 27