Penny Dreadfuls, 1812 · page 63 of 258
Psyche, and other poems — page 63: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Victorian Penny Dreadful Page This is a page of running prose poetry from what appears to be a serialized narrative. The text presents a magical pronouncement—apparently delivered by a holy minister to a female character—describing an enchanted urn filled with water from "immortal Beauty's sacred spring" that can transform deformity into grace. The speaker declares the character reconciled to Venus and freed from exile from Cupid, yet cursed never to know pure rest or her lover's embrace until all opposition is subdued. The passage concludes with the character accepting this doom in a myrtle grove, then being mysteriously provided food by a turtle sent by "the hand of Love" as she lies exhausted.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
B. AS = «And on the altar must thou place an urn ** Filled from immortal Beauty’s sacred spring, * Which foul deformity to grace can turn, « And back to fond affection’s eyes can bring ‘* The charms which fleeting fled on transient wing; *¢ Snatched from the rugged steep where first they rise, ** Dark rocks their crystal source o’ershadowing, * Let their clear water sparkle to the skies * Wherecloudless lustre beams whichhappiness supplies ! “To Venus thus for ever reconciled, ** (This one atonement all her wrath disarms,) “‘ From thy loved Cupid then no more exiled ** There shalt thou, free from sorrow and alarms, ** Enjoy for ever his celestial charms. ** But never shalt thou taste a pure repose, “Nor ever meet thy lover’s circling arms, ‘Till, all subdued that shall thy steps oppose, s* Thy perils there shall end, escaped from all thy foes.” With meek submissive woe she heard her doom, Nor to the holy minister replied; But in the myrtle grove’s mysterious gloom She silently retired her grief to bide. Hopeless to tread the waste without a guide, All unrefreshed and faint from toil she lies: When lo! her present wants are all supphed, Sent by the hand of Love a turtle flies, And sets delicions food before her wondering eyes. Connicloooks.comn