Psyche | Page 7

high! And stars! behold! and sigh!
2ND MAN. Who then, eternal gods, will doom A guiltless maid to
lasting gloom? Oh! this thy rigour, heaven, shames Hell's unrelenting
flames!
1ST MAN. Cruel will
2ND MAN. Of gods severe!
THE TWO MEN. Say why this hard decree, To crush a heart so free
From guilt or stain? Oh! fell edict unheard ere this! Thou doomest a
maid who showers bliss Upon the mortal race. She the sad earth would
grace, And would give life for pain!

WOMAN. All tears are idle, all sighs. Heaven wills it so--she dies!
Whene'er the gods their powers wield, All man can do--is but to yield.
1ST MAN. Alas! dire grief
2ND MAN. Without relief!
1ST MAN. Cruel death!
2ND MAN. Fell decree!

ACT II.
SCENE I.--THE KING, PSYCHE, AGLAURA, CIDIPPE, LYCAS,
and FOLLOWERS.
PSY. The cause of your tears, my Lord, is dear to me; but you are too
kind when you allow a father's love to overmaster the duties of a great
king. The homage which here you pay to nature is fraught with too
much injury to the rank which you hold. I must decline its touching
favours. Check somewhat the sway of your grief over your wisdom,
and cease to honour my destiny with tears, which, springing from a
king's heart, show weakness.
KING. Ah! my daughter! close not my eyes to these tears; my grief is
reasonable, even though it be extreme; and when such a loss as mine
must endure for ever, wisdom herself, believe me, may weep. 'Tis in
vain that pride of regal sway bids us be insensible to such calamities; as
vain for reason to come to our help, and desire us to see with unmoved
eye the death of what we love. The effort required is barbarous in the
eyes of the universe--'tis brutality rather than highest virtue. In this
misfortune I will not wear a show of insensibility, and hide the grief I
feel. I renounce the vanity of this fierce callousness, known as fortitude,
and whatever be the name given to the keen pain, the pangs of which I
feel, I will exhibit it, my daughter, to the gaze of all, and in the heart of
a king display that of a man.
PSY. I deserve not this violent grief. Seek, I pray, to resist the claims it
asserts over your heart, whose might a thousand events have marked.
What! for me, my Lord, you must abandon that kingly firmness of
which, under the blows of misfortune, you have shown such perfect
proofs?
KING. In numberless occasions firmness is easy. All revolutions to
which ruthless fortune can expose us--loss of rank, persecution, envy's
venom, hatred's dart--present nothing which the will of a soul, but a

little swayed by reason, cannot easily brave. But those rigours which
crush the heart under the weight of bitter grief are ... are the cruel darts
of those severe decrees of fate which deprive us for ever of our loved
ones. Against such ills reason offers no available weapons. These are
the direst blows that the gods in their wrath can hurl against us!
PSY. My Lord, one consolation is still left you. Your marriage has
been graced with more than one gift from the gods, and by hiding me
from your sight, they with open favour deprive you of nothing but what
they have not carefully made good for you. Enough remains to relieve
your sorrow, and this law of heaven which you call cruel leaves
sufficient room in the two princesses, my sisters, for paternal love
wherein to place all its kindness.
KING. Ah! empty comfort to my sorrow. There is naught that can
console me for thy loss. My grief fills my soul, I am conscious of
nothing else; in presence of such cruel destiny, I look to what I lose,
and see not what I still retain.
PSY. My Lord, you know better than myself that we must rule our will
by that of heaven; and in this sad farewell I can only say to you that
which you can much better say to others. These gods are sovereign
lords of the gifts they deign to offer us; they leave them in our hands so
long only as it pleases them; when they withdraw them, we have no
right to murmur over the favours which their hands refuse any longer to
pour upon us. My Lord, I am a gift they have offered to your vows, and
when, by this decree, they wish to take me back, they deprive you of
nothing that you do not hold from them; and it is without a murmur that
you must resign me.
KING. Ah! seek, I pray, better foundations for the comfort thy heart
would offer me. Do