Page:The Golden Ass of Apuleius.djvu/137

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page needs to be proofread.

Apollo, where he made his prayers and offered sacrifice, and desired a husband for his daughter: but Apollo though he were a Grecian, and of the country of Ionia, because of the foundation of Milet, yet hee gave answer in Latine verse, the sence whereof was this:--

    Let Psyches corps be clad in mourning weed,
    And set on rock of yonder hill aloft:
    Her husband is no wight of humane seed,
    But Serpent dire and fierce as might be thought.
    Who flies with wings above in starry skies,
    And doth subdue each thing with firie flight.
    The gods themselves, and powers that seem so wise,
    With mighty Jove, be subject to his might,
    The rivers blacke, and deadly flouds of paine
    And darkness eke, as thrall to him remaine.

The King, sometimes happy when he heard the prophesie of Apollo, returned home sad and sorrowful, and declared to his wife the miserable and unhappy fate of his daughter. Then they began to lament and weep, and passed over many dayes in great sorrow. But now the time approached of Psyches marriage, preparation was made, blacke torches were lighted, the pleasant songs were turned into pittifull cries, the melody of Hymeneus was ended with deadly howling, the maid that should be married did wipe her eyes with her vaile. All the family and people of the city weeped likewise, and with great lamentation was ordained a remisse time for that day, but necessity compelled that Psyches should be brought to her appointed place, according to the divine appointment.

And when the solemnity was ended, they went to bring the sorrowful spowse, not to her marriage, but to her final end and burial. And while the father and mother of Psyches did go forward weeping and crying unto this enterprise, Psyches spake unto them in this sort: Why torment your unhappy age with continuall dolour? Why trouble you your spirits, which are more rather mine than yours? Why soyle ye your faces with teares, which I ought to adore and worship? Why teare you my eyes in yours? why pull you your hory haires? Why knocke ye your breasts for me? Now you see the reward of my excellent beauty: now, now