hee, to the sorrowful heart of Psyche!
Suffer me to hide myself but for a few days among the heaps of corn,
till time have softened the anger of the goddess, and my strength,
out-worn in my long travail, be recovered by a little rest."

But Ceres answered her, "Truly thy tears move me, and I would fain help
thee; only I dare not incur the ill-will of my kinswoman. Depart hence
as quickly as may be." And Psyche, repelled against hope, afflicted
now with twofold sorrow, making her way back again, beheld among the
half-lighted woods of the valley below a sanctuary builded with cunning
[81] art. And that she might lose no way of hope, howsoever doubtful,
she drew near to the sacred doors. She sees there gifts of price, and
garments fixed upon the door-posts and to the branches of the trees,
wrought with letters of gold which told the name of the goddess to whom
they were dedicated, with thanksgiving for that she had done. So, with
bent knee and hands laid about the glowing altar, she prayed saying,
"Sister and spouse of Jupiter! be thou to these my desperate fortune's
Juno the Auspicious! I know that thou dost willingly help those in
travail with child; deliver me from the peril that is upon me." And as
she prayed thus, Juno in the majesty of her godhead, was straightway
present, and answered, "Would that I might incline favourably to thee;
but against the will of Venus, whom I have ever loved as a daughter, I
may not, for very shame, grant thy prayer."

And Psyche, dismayed by this new shipwreck of her hope, communed thus
with herself, "Whither, from the midst of the snares that beset me,
shall I take my way once more? In what dark solitude shall I hide me
from the all-seeing eye of Venus? What if I put on at length a man's
courage, and yielding myself unto her as my mistress, soften by a
humility not yet too late the fierceness of her purpose? Who knows but
that I may find him also whom my soul seeketh after, in the abode of
his mother?"

[82] And Venus, renouncing all earthly aid in her search, prepared to
return to heaven. She ordered the chariot to be made ready, wrought
for her by Vulcan as a marriage-gift, with a cunning of hand which had
left his work so much the richer by the weight of gold it lost under
his tool. From the multitude which housed about the bed-chamber of
their mistress, white doves came forth, and with joyful motions bent
their painted necks beneath the yoke. Behind it, with playful ri