March

In midmost length of hundred-citied Crete,The land that cradl'd Zeus, of old renown,Where grave Demeter nurseried her wheat,And Minos fashion'd law, ere he went downTo judge the quaking hordes of Hell's domain,There dwelt a King on the Omphalian plainEastward of Ida, in a little town.

Three daughters had this King, of whom my taleTime hath preserved, that loveth to despiseThe wealth which men misdeem of much avail,Their glories for themselves that they devise;For clerkly is he, old hard-featured Time,And poets' fabl'd song and lovers' rhymeHe storeth on his shelves to please his eyes.

These three princesses all were fairest fair;And of the elder twain 'tis truth to sayThat if they stood not high above compare,Yet in their prime they bore the palm away;Outwards of loveliness; but Nature's mood,Gracious to make, had grudgingly enduedAnd marr'd by gifting ill the beauteous clay.

And being in honour they were well contentTo feed on lovers' looks and courtly smiles,To hang their necks with jewel'd ornament,And gold, that vanity in vain beguiles,And live in gaze, and take their praise for due,To be the fairest maidens then to viewWithin the shores of Greece and all her isles.

But of that youngest one, the third princess,There is no likeness; since she was as farFrom pictured beauty as is ugliness,Though on the side where heavenly wonders are,Ideals out of being and above,Which music worshippeth, but if love love,'Tis, as the poet saith, to love a star.

Her vision rather drave from passion's heartWhat earthly soil it had afore possest;Since to man's purer unsubstantial partThe brightness of her presence was addrest:And such as mock'd at God, when once they sawHer heavenly glance, were humbl'd, and in aweOf things unseen, return'd to praise the Best.

And so before her, wheresoe'er she went,Hushing the crowd a thrilling whisper ran,And silent heads were reverently bent;Till from the people the belief beganThat Love's own mother had come down on earth,Sweet Cytherea, or of mortal birthA greater Goddess was vouchsaf't to man.

Then Aphrodite's statue in its placeStood without worshippers; if Cretans pray'dFor beauty or for children, love or grace,The prayer and vow were offer'd to the maid;Unto the maid their hymns of praise were sung,Their victims bled for her, for her they hungGarland and golden gift, and none forbade.

And thence opinion spread beyond the shores,From isle to isle the wonder flew, it cameAcross the Ægæan on a thousand oars,Athens and Smyrna caught the virgin's fame;And East or West, where'er the tale had been,The adoration of the foam-born queenFell to neglect, and men forgot her name.

No longer to high Paphos now 'twas sail'd;The fragrant altar by the Graces servedAt Cnidus was forsaken; pilgrims fail'dThe rocky island to her name reserved,Proud Ephyra, and Meropis renown'd;'Twas all for Crete her votaries were bound,And to the Cretan maid her worship swerved.

Which when in heaven great Aphrodite saw,Who is the breather of the year's bright morn,Fount of desire and beauty without flaw,Herself the life that doth the world adorn;Seeing that without her generative mightNothing can spring upon the shores of light,Nor any bud of joy or love be born;

She, when she saw the insult, did not hideHer indignation, that a mortal frailWith her eterne divinity had vied,Her fair Hellenic empire to assail,For which she had fled the doom of Ninus old,And left her wanton images unsoul'dIn Babylon and Zidon soon to fail.

'Not long,' she cried, 'shall that poor girl of CreteGod it in my despite; for I will bringSuch mischief on the sickly counterfeitAs soon shall cure her tribe of worshipping:Her beauty will I mock with loathèd lust,Bow down her dainty spirit to the dust,And leave her long alive to feel the sting.'

With that she calls to her her comely boy,The limber scion of the God of War,The fruit adulterous, which for man's annoyTo that fierce partner Cytherea bore,Eros, the ever young, who only grewIn mischief, and was Cupid named anewIn westering aftertime of latin lore.

What the first dawn of manhood is, the hourWhen beauty, from its fleshy bud unpent,Flaunts like the corol of a summer flower,As if all life were for that ornament,Such Eros seemed in years, a trifler gay,The prodigal of an immortal dayFor ever spending, and yet never spent.

His skin is brilliant with the nimble floodOf ichor, that comes dancing from his heart,Lively as fire, and redder than the blood,And maketh in his eyes small flashes dart,And curleth his hair golden, and distillethHoney on his tongue, and all his body fillethWith wanton lightsomeness in every part.

Naked he goeth, but with sprightly wingsRed, iridescent, are his shoulders fledged.A bow his weapon, which he deftly strings,And little arrows barb'd and keenly edged;And these he shooteth true; but else the youthFor all his seeming recketh naught of truth,But most deceiveth where he most is pledged.

'Tis he that maketh in men's heart a strifeBetween remorseful reason and desire,Till with life lost they lose the love of life,And by their own hands wretchedly expire;Or slain in bloody rivalries they missEven the short embracement of their bliss,His smile of fury and his kiss of fire.

He makes the strong man weak, the weak man wild;Ruins great business and purpose high;Brings down the wise to folly reconciled,And martial captains on their knees to sigh:He changeth dynasties, and on the headOf duteous heroes, who for honour bled,Smircheth the laurel that can never die.

Him then she call'd, and gravely kissing toldThe great dishonour to her godhead done;And how, if he from that in heaven would hold,On earth he must maintain it as her son;The rather that his weapons were most fit,As was his skill ordain'd to champion it;And flattering thus his ready zeal she won.

Whereon she quickly led him down on earth,And show'd him PSYCHE, thus the maid was named;Whom when she show'd, but coud not hide her worth,She grew with envy tenfold more enflamed.'But if,' she cried, 'thou smite her as I bid,Soon shall our glory of this affront be rid,And she and all her likes for ever shamed.

'Make her to love the loathliest, basest wretch,Deform'd in body, and of moonstruck mind,A hideous brute and vicious, born to fetchAnger from dogs and cursing from the blind.And let her passion for the monster beAs shameless and detestable as heIs most extreme and vile of humankind.'

Which said, when he agreed, she spake no more,But left him to his task, and took her wayBeside the ripples of the shell-strewn shore,The southward stretching margin of a bay,Whose sandy curves she pass'd, and taking standUpon its taper horn of furthest land,Lookt left and right to rise and set of day.

Fair was the sight; for now, though full an hourThe sun had sunk, she saw the evening lightIn shifting colour to the zenith tower,And grow more gorgeous ever and more bright.Bathed in the warm and comfortable glow,The fair delighted queen forgot her woe,And watch'd the unwonted pageant of the night.

Broad and low down, where late the sun had beenA wealth of orange-gold was thickly shed,Fading above into a field of green,Like apples ere they ripen into red;Then to the height a variable hueOf rose and pink and crimson freak'd with blue,And olive-border'd clouds o'er lilac led.

High in the opposèd west the wondering moonAll silvery green in flying green was fleec't;And round the blazing South the splendour soonCaught all the heaven, and ran to North and East;And Aphrodite knew the thing was wroughtBy cunning of Poseidon, and she thoughtShe would go see with whom he kept his feast.

Swift to her wish came swimming on the wavesHis lovely ocean nymphs, her guides to be,The Nereids all, who live among the cavesAnd valleys of the deep, Cymodocè,Agavè, blue-eyed Hallia and Nesæa,Speio, and Thoë, Glaucè and Actæa,Iaira, Melitè and Amphinomè,

Apseudès and Nemertès, Callianassa,Cymothoë, Thaleia, Limnorrhea,Clymenè, Ianeira and Ianassa,Doris and Panopè and Galatea,Dynamenè, Dexamenè and Maira,Ferusa, Doto, Proto, Callianeira,Amphithoë, Oreithuia and Amathea.

And after them sad Melicertes draveHis chariot, that with swift unfellied wheel,By his two dolphins drawn along the wave,Flew as they plunged, yet did not dip nor reel,But like a plough that shears the heavy landStood on the flood, and back on either handO'erturn'd the briny furrow with its keel.

Behind came Tritons, that their conches blew,Greenbearded, tail'd like fish, all sleek and stark;And hippocampi tamed, a bristly crew,The browzers of old Proteus' weedy park,Whose chiefer Mermen brought a shell for boat,And balancing its hollow fan afloat,Push'd it to shore and bade the queen embark:

And then the goddess stept upon the shellWhich took her weight; and others threw a trainOf soft silk o'er her, that unfurl'd to swellIn sails, at breath of flying Zephyrs twain;And all her way with foam in laughter strewn,With stir of music and of conches blown,Was Aphrodite launch'd upon the main.