From her rash Essay: in one trembling hand
She bears a lamp, which sparkles on a sword;
In the dim light she seems a wandering dream
Of loveliness: ’tis Psyche and her Lord,
Her yet unseen, who slumbers like a beam
Of moonlight, vanishing as soon as scann’d!
“2. One Moment, and all bliss hath fled her heart,
Like windstole odours from the rosebud’s cell,
Or as the earthdashed dewdrop which no art
Can e’er replace: alas! we learn fullwell