10
There as she stood in doubt, a fluting voice
Rose from the flood, 'Psyche, be not afraid
To hear a reed give tongue, for 'twas of choice
That I from mortal flesh a plant was made.
My name is Syrinx; once from mighty Pan
Into the drowning river as I ran,
A fearful prayer my steps for ever stay'd.
11
'But by that change in many climes I live;
And Pan, my lover, who to me alone
Is true and does me honour, I forgive—
Nor if I speak in sorrow is't my own:
Rather for thee my voice I now uplift
To warn thee plunge not in the river swift,
Nor seek the golden sheep to men unknown.
12
'If thou should cross the stream, which may not be,
Thou coudst not climb upon the hanging rocks,
Nor ever, as the goddess bade thee, see
The pasture of the yellow-fleecèd flocks:
Or if thou coud, their herded horns would gore
And slay thee on the crags, or thrust thee o'er
Ere thou coudst rob them of their golden locks.
13
'The goddess means thy death. But I can show
How thy obedience yet may thwart her will.
At noon the golden flocks descend below,
Leaving the scented herbage of the hill,
And where the shelving banks to shallows fall,
Drink at the rippling water one and all,
Nor back return till they have drawn their fill.
14
'I will command a thornbush, that it stoop
Over some ram that steppeth by in peace,
And him in all its prickles firmly coop,
Making thee seizure of his golden fleece;
So without peril of his angry horns
Shalt thou be quit: for he upon the thorns
Must leave his ransom ere he win release.'
15
Then Psyche thankt her for her kind befriending,
And hid among the rushes looking east;
And when noon came she saw the flock descending
Out of the hills; and lo! one golden beast
Caught in a thornbush; and the mighty brute
Struggl'd and tore it from its twisted root
Into the stream, or e'er he was releas't.
16
And when they water'd were and gone, the breeze
Floated the freighted thorn where Psyche lay:
Whence she unhook'd the golden wool at ease,
And back to heaven for passage swift gan pray.
And Hermes, who was sent to be her guide
Ifso she lived, came down at eventide,
And bore her thither ere the close of day.
17
But when the goddess saw the locks of gold
Held to her hands, her heart with wrath o'erran:
'Most desperate thou, and by abetting bold,
That dost outwit me, prove thee as I can.
Yet this work is not thine: there is but one
Of all the gods who coud the thing have done.
Hast thou a friend too in the lusty Pan?