Yet deck the portal of her wondering spouse.
“Eight Husbands to Herself She Gave”—
A rare inscription for her grave!
—Satires.
Apuleius was the skilful teller of a long and fantastic tale called Metamorphoses, commonly known as the Golden Ass.
But a small extract may be given.
Apuleius
METAMORPHOSES
Fotis came running to me one day in great excitement and trepidation, and informed me that her mistress, having hitherto made no proficiency by other means in her present amour, intended to assume feathers like a bird, and so take flight to the object of her love, and that I must prepare myself with all due care for the sight of such a wonderful proceeding. And now, about the first watch of the night, she escorted me, on tiptoe and with noiseless steps, to that same upper chamber, and bade me peep through a chink in the door, which I did accordingly.
In the first place, Pamphile divested herself of all her garments, and having unlocked a certain cabinet, took out of it several little boxes. Taking the lid off one of them, and pouring some ointment therefrom, she rubbed herself for a considerable time with her hands, smearing herself all over from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. Then, after she had muttered a long while in a low voice over a lamp, she shook her limbs with tremulous jerks, then gently waved them to and fro, until soft feathers burst forth, strong wings displayed themselves, the nose was hardened and curved into a beak, the nails were compressed and made crooked. Thus did Pamphile become an owl. Then, uttering a querulous scream, she made trial of her powers, leaping little by little from the ground; and presently, raising herself aloft, on full wing, she flew out-of-doors. And thus was she, of her own will, changed, by her own magic arts.
But I, though not enchanted by any magic spell, still, riveted to the spot by astonishment at this performance, seemed to myself to be anything else rather than Lucius. Thus deprived of my senses, and astounded even to insanity, I was in a waking dream, and rubbed my eyes for some time to ascertain whether or not I was awake at all. At last, however, returning to consciousness of the reality of things, I took hold of the right hand of Fotis, and putting it to my eyes, “Suffer me,” said I, “I beg of you, to enjoy a great and singular proof of your affection, while the opportunity offers, and give me a little ointment from the same box. Grant this, my sweetest, I entreat you by these breasts of yours, and thus, by conferring on me an obligation that can never be repaid, bind me to you forever as your slave. Be you my Venus, and let me stand by you a winged Cupid.”