PSYCHE
FROM BOOK I
The goddess donned her ancient gala dress, and seated in the shell, as they paint in pictures, glided over the waters on two large dolphins.
Cupid, bestowing his imperious look, bestirred all Neptune’s court. The frisky waves, perceiving Venus, swam after her, replete with merriment. The watery tribe of Tritons issues to her from the abysses of the waters: one dives all about her and pacifies the wanton waves; another, whirling in the depths, gathers pearls at the bottom and drags forth all the secrets of the sea to place before her feet. One, struggling with the monsters, forbids them to disport nearby; another, briskly leaping into the coachman’s seat, scolds loudly those he meets and orders them to stand aside; he proudly holds the lines, and steers his path away from rocks, and crushes impudent monsters. One, with trident, precedes her on a whale and drives all far out of the way; he casts about him his angry looks and, that all may know his will, loudly blows a coral horn; another, having come to the goddess from distant regions, bears before her a bit from a crystal mountain instead of a mirror. This sight refreshes her pleasure and the joy upon her brow.
“Oh, if this sight,” proclaims he, “for ever remained in this crystal!” But the Triton’s wish is vain: that vision will disappear like a dream, and nothing will remain but the stone, and in the heart a fatal flame which will consume him. Another has joined the retinue of the goddess, and protects her from the sun and cools the sultry beam by sending upwards a stream of water. Meanwhile sirens, sweet singers, sing verses in her honour, and mingle fiction with truth in their attempt to extol her: some dance before her; others, anticipating her wishes, are present to serve her, and with fans waft coolness to the goddess; others, borne on the crests, breathe heavily in travelling post from fields, beloved by Flora, and bring her flowery wreaths. Thetis herself has sent them for small and great services, and wishes only that her husband stay at home. The weather being most favourable, the storms dare not annoy her, and only the Zephyrs are free to fondle Venus.
FROM BOOK II
Psyche awoke from her sleep not sooner than midday past, nay, one hour after midday. All serving-maids came to dress the princess, and brought with them forty garments and all that with them went. For that day Psyche designated the simplest of all gowns, for she hastened as soon as possible to inspect the marvels of the palace. I shall follow in the princess’s track and shall present the mansion to you, and describe all in detail that could amuse her.
At first Psyche visited the rooms, nor left a corner in them where she did not pass a while; thence to the conservatory and to the balcony; thence on the veranda, and down, and out, to inspect the house from all sides. A bevy of girls were slow in following her; only the Zephyrs were fast enough, and they guarded her, lest running she should fall. Two or three times she inspected the house from within and from without. Meanwhile the Zephyrs and Cupids pointed out the architecture to her and all the marvels of nature, which Psyche was anxious to inspect. She wished to see all, but knew not where to begin, for her eyes were distracted now by one thing, now by another. Psyche would fain have looked at everything, but running around so much, she soon became fatigued.
While resting herself, she looked at the statues of famous masters: those were likenesses of inimitable beauties, whose names, in prose and verse, in various tales, both short and long, reign immortally among all the nations and through all the ages: Calisto, Daphne, Armene, Niobe, Helen, the Graces, Angelica, Phryne, and a multitude of other goddesses and mortal women appeared before her eyes in lifelike form, in all their beauty arrayed along the wall. But in the middle, and right in front of them, Psyche’s image stood on an elevated pedestal and surpassed them all in beauty. Looking at it, she herself fell to wondering, and, beside herself with wonderment, stopped: then you might have perceived another statue in her, such as the world had never seen.
Psyche would have stayed there a long time, looking at her image that held sway over her, if her servants who were with her had not pointed out in other places, for the pleasure of her eyes, other likenesses of her beauty and glory: up to her waist, her feet, her lifelike form, of gold, of silver, of bronze, of steel, her heads, and busts, and medals; and elsewhere mosaic, or marble, or agate represented in these forms a new splendour. In other places Apelles, or the god of artists who with his hand had moved Apelles’s brush, had pictured Psyche in all her beauty, such as no man could have imagined before.