She uttered her jubilant cry, and hastened on with uplifted arms through the azure moon-flames. The firmament spread out in higher circles and formed wider spheres;
The flames became clearer and clearer; more benignly blew the breeze;
And pale, the spirits flitted to and fro: pale shades with melancholy eyes, singing their song of painful remembrances....
And the spirits looked at Psyche—the spirits smiled benignly on her, astonished that she was still alive.
They pointed for her to go on farther and farther; they nodded to her, “On! on!”
And she gave a loud cry of joy and hastened on....
She sped through the flames and shades;
Till the flames were still, and high and white;
High, still, white flames, like sacrificial flames, like altar flames, high in the sky, the lofty sky, the wide sky; the wide expanse full of white flame, still, white, ascending, purifying flames, refined and clear, over the whole wide expanse, the wide refining expanse....
Once more she asked the pale shades, who swarmed about between the flames, hand in hand, who swayed continually to and fro between the flames: