Psyche, and other poems — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

8. : - : And close beside a little fountain played, Which through the trembling leaves all joyous shone, “f And with the cheerful birds sweet music made, Kissing the surface of each polished stone As it flowed past: sure as her favourite throne - Tranquillity might well esteem the bower, _ The fresh and cool retreat have called her own, A pleasant shelter in the sultry hour, ’ A refuge from the blast, and angry tempest’s power. * Wooed by the soothing silence of the scene Here Psyche stood, and looking round, lest aught Which threatened danger near her might have been, Awhile to rest her in that quiet spot She laid her down, and piteously bethought Herself on the sad changes of her fate, Which in so short a space so much had wrought, And now had raised her to such high estate, And now had plunged her low in sorrow desolate. Oh ! how refreshing seemed the breathing wind To her faint limbs! and while her snowy hands From her fair brow her golden hair unbind, And of her zone unloose the silken bands, More passing bright unveiled her beauty stands ; For faultless was her form as beauty’s queen, And every winning grace that Love demands, With mild attempered dignity was seen Play o’er each lovely limb, and deck her angel mien. COMMIEMIOO KSA EON)