ning
gentle in honour of the god, put her forth again unhurt upon its
margin. And as it happened, Pan, the rustic god, was sitting just then
by the waterside, embracing, in the body of a reed, the goddess Canna;
teaching her to respond to him in all varieties of slender sound. Hard
by, his flock of goats browsed at will. And the shaggy god called her,
wounded and outworn, kindly to him and said, "I am but a rustic
herdsman, pretty maiden, yet wise, by favour of my great age and long
experience; and if I guess truly by those faltering steps, by thy
sorrowful eyes and continual sighing, thou labourest with excess of
love. Listen then to me, and seek not death again, in the stream or
otherwise. Put aside thy woe, and turn thy prayers to Cupid. He is in
truth a delicate youth: win him by the delicacy of thy service."

So the shepherd-god spoke, and Psyche, answering nothing, but with a
reverence to his serviceable deity, went on her way. And while she, in
her search after Cupid, wandered through many lands, he was lying in
the chamber of his mother, heart-sick. And the white bird which floats
over the waves plunged in haste into the sea, and approaching Venus, as
she bathed, made known to her that her son lies afflicted with some
grievous hurt, doubtful of life. And Venus cried, angrily, "My son,
then, has a mistress! And it is Psyche, who witched away [78] my
beauty and was the rival of my godhead, whom he loves!"

Therewith she issued from the sea, and returning to her golden chamber,
found there the lad, sick, as she had heard, and cried from the
doorway, "Well done, truly! to trample thy mother's precepts under
foot, to spare my enemy that cross of an unworthy love; nay, unite her
to thyself, child as thou art, that I might have a daughter-in-law who
hates me! I will make thee repent of thy sport, and the savour of thy
marriage bitter. There is one who shall chasten this body of thine,
put out thy torch and unstring thy bow. Not till she has plucked forth
that hair, into which so oft these hands have smoothed the golden
light, and sheared away thy wings, shall I feel the injury done me
avenged." And with this she hastened in anger from the doors.

And Ceres and Juno met her, and sought to know the meaning of her
troubled countenance. "Ye come in season," she cried; "I pray you,
find for me Psyche. It must needs be that ye have heard the disgrace
of my house." And they, ignorant of what was done, would