Let me be gone.’ And stealing blind consent,
Forth on that well-remember’d road she went,
And climb’d upon the peak above the dale.
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There on the topmost rock, where Psyche first
Had by her weeping sire been left to die,
She stood a moment, in her hope accurst
Being happy; and the cliffs took up her cry
With chuckling mockery from her tongue above,
Zephyr, sweet Zephyr, waft me to my love!