Penny Dreadfuls, 1812 · page 62 of 258
Psyche, and other poems — page 62: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Victorian Penny Dreadful Page Analysis This is a page of running verse narrative (page 44) from what appears to be a serialized melodramatic tale. The text depicts a scene in which a character named Psyche encounters an aged priest at a sacred portal who delivers stern warnings on behalf of a goddess (apparently Venus). The priest initially orders Psyche away as profane, then shows pity and advises her to seek refuge in trees and heed the goddess's will. A second voice—seemingly the goddess herself—then pronounces a curse upon "Presumptuous Psyche," declaring that Venus's vengeance will not cease until Psyche builds an altar to the goddess's power in a secluded, untrodden bower. The narrative employs classical mythology (Psyche and Venus) within a sensational melodramatic framework typical of penny dreadful fiction.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Ad With awe that fearfully her doom awaits Still at the portal Psyche timid lies, When lo! advancing from the hallowed gates Trembling she views with reverential eyes An aged priest. A myrtle bough supplies A wand, and roses bind his snowy brows: ‘ Bear hence thy feet profane (he sternly cries) | ‘* Thy longer stay the goddess disallows, ‘Fly, nor her fiercer wrath too daringly arouse !’ His pure white robe imploringly she held, And, bathed in tears, embraced his sacred knees ; Her mournful charms relenting he beheld, And melting pity in his eye she sees ; ‘* Hope not (he cries) the goddess to appease, *“‘ Retire at awful distance from her shrine, * But seek the refuge of those sheltering trees, «* And now thy soul with humble awe incline To hear her sacred will, and mark the words divine.” “ Presumptuous Psyche! whose aspiring soul ‘‘ The God of Love has dared to arrogate ; ** Rival of Venus! whose supreme control ** is now asserted by all ruling fate, ** No suppliant tears her vengeance shall abate ** Till thou hast raised an altar to her power, “‘ Where perfect happiness, in lonely state, ‘“* Has fixed her temple in secluded bower, ** By foot impure of man untrodden to this hour! t pris Comichbooksteom