Psyche | Page 8

not by the fallacy of thy reasoning increase the
burden of the piercing grief which now torments me. Dost thou imagine
that thou givest me a powerful reason why I should not complain of
this decree of heaven? and in this proceeding of the gods, of which thou
biddest me be satisfied, dost thou not clearly see a deadly severity?
Consider the state in which the gods force me to resign thee, and that in
which my hapless heart received thee. Thou shalt know then that they
take from me much more than they gave: from them I received in thee,
my daughter, a gift I did not ask for; then I found in it but few charms,
and without joy I saw my family increased by it. But my heart and my

eyes have made a sweet habit of this gift. Fifteen years of care, of
watchfulness, of study, have I employed to render it precious to me. I
have decked it with the lovely wealth of a thousand brilliant virtues; I
have enshrined in it, by assiduous care, the rarest treasures that wisdom
yields; to it clings the tenderness of my soul. I have made it the charm,
the joy of this heart, the solace of my wearied senses, the sweet hope of
my old age. All this they take from me--these gods! And thou wouldst
have me utter no complaint concerning this dire edict from which I
suffer! Ah! with too much rigour their power tramples upon the
affections of our heart. To withdraw their gift, have they not waited till
I had made it my all? Rather, if it was their purpose to remove it, had it
not been better to give me nothing?
PSY. My Lord! dread the wrath of those gods whom you dare upbraid.
KING. After this blow, what more can they inflict on me?
PSY. Ah! my Lord! I tremble for your sins, of which I am the cause; I
hate myself for this....
KING. Ah! let them bear with my legitimate complaints; 'tis pain
enough for me to obey them; it ought to suffice them that my heart
abandons thee to the barbarous respect we must bear them, without
claiming also to control the grief that so frightful a decree calls forth.
My just despair can know no bounds. My grief, my grief, I will nurse it
for ever! I will feel for ever the loss I sustain, of heaven's rigour I will
always raise high my complaint; until death I will unceasingly weep for
that than which the whole world could give me naught more precious.
PSY. Ah! I pray you, my Lord, Spare my weakness. I need constancy
in these circumstances. Add not to the excess of my grief by the tears of
your fondness. My sorrow alone is deep enough; my fate and your grief
are too much for my heart.
KING. True! I must spare thee my disconsolate trouble. The fatal
moment has come. I must tear myself from thee; but how can I utter
this dreadful word? And yet I must! Heaven commands it. An
unavoidable cruelty forces me to leave thee in this fatal spot. Farewell,
I go... Farewell.

SCENE II.--PSYCHE, AGLAURA, CIDIPPE.
PSY. Follow the king, my sisters; dry his tears, solace his grief. You
would fill him with alarm were you to, expose yourselves to my

misfortune. Preserve for him whatever he possesses still; the serpent I
expect might prove hurtful to you, and draw you in the same fate as
myself; nay, through your death might cause me a second death. Me
alone has heaven condemned to his poisonous breath; nothing could
save me; and I need no example to die.
AGL. Grudge us not this cruel privilege of mingling our tears with your
sorrows; suffer our sighs to answer your last sighs; accept this last
pledge of our tender love.
PSY. 'Tis but to lose yourselves to no purpose.
CID. 'Tis to hope for a miracle in your favour, or to accompany you to
the tomb.
PSY. What room is there for hope after such an oracle?
AGL. An oracle is ever veiled in obscurity; the more we believe that
we know its meaning, the less do we understand it. Perhaps, after all,
you must expect from it nothing but glory and happiness. Suffer us,
dear sister, to behold this mortal dread deceived by a worthy issue; or at
least let us die with you, if heaven does not show itself more propitious
to our prayers.
PSY. Dear sister, lend a readier ear to nature's voice, which summons
you to stand by the king. You love me too much, and duty murmurs;
you know its unavoidable laws. A father ought to be dearer to you than
myself; become both the mainstays of