Psyche, and other poems — page 156: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

138 The magic shield he thence in triumph bore, Resolved, in pity to the human race, » | ‘Her noxious hands its might should guide no more, _ And bade the seas conceal its Hydra face: Oh! kindly meant, though much defeated grace! For though the o’erwhelming weight of sounding waves Conceal its ragged orb a little space, © Snatched by Glacella from the dark deep caves, Once more the arm of Love with potent spell it braves. But Psyche, rescued from their cruel scorn, Urges her knight to hasten from the shore: The buoyant vessel on the billows borne Rides proudly o’er the mounting surge once more ; Again they spread the sails, the feathered oar Skims with impatient stroke the sparkling tide ; The blushing Hymen now their smiles restore Again to frolic gaily at their side, Though still their playful taunts reproach their slum-— bering guide. Psyche looks back with horror on the coast ; Black, drear, and desolate is all the scene: The rocky cliffs still homan shape may boast ; There the sad victims of the cruel Queen, Memorials of her baneful power, are seen: No vine crowned hills, no glowing vales appear, Nor the white cottage laughs upon the green; The black and leafless thorn alone is there, And the chill mountains lift their summits wild and bare. * : ; COnnicbooks, conn