Nay, but not these held Psyche in suspense;
Hers was the hope that following by the bier
Boweth its head beneath the dark immense:
Her fear the dread of life that turns to hide
Its tragic tears, what hour the happy bride
Ventures for love her maiden innocence.
20
They set on high upon the bridal wain
Her bed for bier, and yet no corpse thereon;
But like as when unto a warrior slain