bower he flew,
And underneath his feet the moonlit sea
Went shepherding his waves disorderly,
He swore that of all gods and men, no one
Should hold her in his arms but he alone;
That she should dwell with him in glorious wise
Like to a goddess in some paradise;
Yea, he would get from Father Jove this grace
That she should never die, but her sweet face
And wonderful fair body should endure
Till the foundations of the mountains sure
Were molten in the sea; so utterly
Did he forget his mother's cruelty."

William Morris.

Meantime it came to be known all over that land, and in other lands to
which the fame of the fair Psyche had spread, that the mighty goddess
Aphrodite had declared herself the enemy of the princess. Therefore
none dared seek her in marriage, and although many a noble youth
sighed away his heart for love of her, she remained in her father's
palace like an exquisite rose whose thorns make those who fain would
have it for their own, fear to pluck it from the parent stem. Her
sisters married, and her father marvelled why so strange a thing
should come about and why the most beautiful by far of his three
daughters should remain unwed.

At length, laden with royal gifts, an embassy was sent by the king to
the oracle of Apollo to inquire what might be the will of the dwellers
on Olympus concerning his fairest daughter. In a horror of anxiety the
king and his queen and Psyche awaited the return of the ambassadors.
And when they returned, before ever a word was spoken, they knew that
the oracle had spoken Psyche's doom.

"No mortal lover shall fair Psyche know," said the oracle. "For
bridegroom she shall have a monster that neither man nor god can
resist. On the mountain top he awaits her coming. Woe unutterable
shall come to the king and to all the dwellers in his land if he dares
to resist the unalterable dictum of the deathless gods!"

"... Of dead corpses shalt thou be the king,
And stumbling through the dark land shalt thou go,
Howling for second death to end thy woe."

William Morris.

Only for a little while did the wretched king strive to resist the
decrees of fate. And in her own chamber, where so short a time before the
little princess had known the joy of something inexpressible--something
most exquisite--intangible--unknown--she sat, like a flower broken by the
ruthless storm, sobbing pitifully, dry-eyed, with sob