Psyche, and other poems — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

' 47 But other fears her timid soul distress, Mid strangers unprotected and alone, The desert wilderness alarmed her less Than cities, thus unfriended and unknown ; But where the path was all by moss o’ergrown, There still she chose her solitary way, Where’er her faithful Dove before had flown Fearful of nought she might securely stray, For still his care supplied the wants of every day. And still she entered every sacred grove And homage paid to each divinity, But chief the altar of almighty Love Weeping embraced with fond imploring eye ; To every oracle her hopes apply, Instructions for her dangerous path to gain : Exclaiming oft, with a desponding sigh, ** Ah! how through all such dangers, toil and pain, ** Shall Psyche’s helpless steps their object e’er attain !” And now remote from every peopled town One sultry day a cooling bower she found : There, as I whilom sung, she laid her down, Where rich profusion of gay flowers around Had decked with artless shew the sloping ground ; There the wild rose and modest violet grow, There all thy charms, Narcissus ! still abound : There wrapt in verdure fragrant lilies blow, Lilies that love the vale, and hide their bells of snow. — Connicloooks.comn