Classic Poem

(METAMORPH ., LIB. VI.)

AND Jove's right hand approached the ambrosial bowl
To Psyche's lips, that scarce dared yet to smile, —
" Drink, O my daughter, and acquaint thy soul
With deathless uses, and be glad the while!
No more shall Cupid leave thy lovely side;
Thy marriage-joy begins for never-ending."
While yet he spake, — the nuptial feast supplied, —
The bridegroom on the festive couch was bending
O'er Psyche in his bosom — Jove, the same,
On Juno, and the other deities,
Alike ranged round. The rural cup-boy came
And poured Jove's nectar out with shining eyes,
While Bacchus, for the others, did as much,
And Vulcan spread the meal; and all the Hours
Made all things purple with a sprinkle of flowers,
Or roses chiefly, not to say the touch
Of their sweet fingers; and the Graces glided
Their balm around, and the Muses, through the air,
Struck out clear voices, which were still divided
By that divinest song Apollo there
Intoned to his lute; while Aphroditè fair
Did float her beauty along the tune, and play
The notes right with her feet. And thus, the day
Through every perfect mood of joy was carried.
The Muses sang their chorus; Satyrus
Did blow his pipes; Pan touched his reed; — and thus
At last were Cupid and his Psyche married.