*

this involution of the hand in the dress is an allegory of that signification we learn from the following passage in Livy, when speaking of a procession of the priestesses of Egeria or Fidelity: "They sacrificed with their right hands enveloped in their garments, so that not even their fingers appeared, whereby they intended to signify that fidelity was to be observed in their proceedings, and to respect that virtue of which the right hand is at once the seat and the symbol." Book I. Ch. VIII.

* Camœnis eum lucum sacravit quod earum sibi concilia cum conjuge suâ Egerià essent: et soli fidei solenne instituit, &c.

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CUPID AND PSYCHE.

THE mythological tale of the loves of Cupid and Psyche is an allegory of the human soul, which is sometimes nourished, and sometimes tormented, by the passions. Psyche in Greek signifies the soul, and Cupid, desire. She is frequently represented by a butterfly, not merely from the beautiful appearance of that insect, but on account of its surviving the chrysalis or worm; the after-state of man is thus finely designated. We have a numerous series of gems which tell their story by ingenious allegories; and in all times it has been a favourite subject of the most eminent artists. Sometimes Venus holds a butterfly over the burning torch of Love; Love and Psyche are caressing each other; Love sometimes chains the hands of his unfortunate mistress, and tramples on her; Love is himself chained to a column by Psyche; Love nails a butterfly on a tree, tears its wings, and burns them, &c. The butterfly, whereever it is met with on gems, indicates the soul, and we see one often issuing from the mouth of a dying man.

This beautiful story has been told by Apuleius, in a turgid style; and it has afforded La Fontaine matter for a little, but tedious, volume. It has lately been elegantly narrated by an anonymous poet. We present for the amusement of the reader an analysis of the charming fable.

A king and queen (so begins the fairy tale) had three daughters, all beautiful; the third was more than beautiful. She was compared to Venus; for her was the worship of this deity neglected; Paphos, and Cnidos, and Cythera, were deserted. The statues of Beauty were ungarlanded and uncrowned; her altars were without incense and sacrifices. Venus, indignant, summoned her son signally to chastise the feeble mortal whose audacious beauty had stolen away her adorers.

Yet Psyche drew no advantage from her charms; all hastened to behold her; all admired her; but she inspired no one with desire. Her sisters were

already married, and she alone, in the solitude of the palace, hated her own beauties, which all were satisfied to praise without wishing to enjoy.

Her sympathising parents consulted the Oracle, which decreed that Psyche should be exposed on the point of a rock, dressed in funeral robes; that she should have no mortal for a husband, but a ferocious and terrific monster, who flying in the air desolates the earth, and makes the heavens tremble. Her parents terrified, mingle their tears; they fear, and they obey.

Psyche, exhausted, tremblingly gave herself up to grief and to complaint, when a Zephyr suddenly lifted her with his soft breath on his light wings into a valley where he laid her down on a green bank, enamelled with flowers. There she slept.-What was her astonishment when she awoke, to find herself in a palace ornamented with as much taste as magnificence, and above all, when, without perceiving any person, she heard voices congratulate her, and supplicate for her commands. The palace resounds with celestial music; the most delicate viands, and the most exquisite wines, are served up by invisible hands; delicious paintings enchant her eyes; she breathes a balmy air; all her senses are charmed at once, and every moment they are struck by changeful novelties.

Night came, and the beautiful Psyche yielded to the softness of repose; scarcely had she dosed, when a voice far softer and more melodious than all the voices she had heard, whispered in her ear. A secret trouble agitates her; she is ignorant of what she fears. A thousand thoughts distract her tender imagination; but her husband is with her! He embraces her unseen, but not unfelt. She is his wife; but her invisible husband disappears with the day.

Meanwhile the unhappy parents of Psyche were perishing with grief. Her sisters each day wept at the foot of the rock on which she had been exposed; with lamenting cries they filled the surrounding valleys; the distant echoes multiplied their accents, and the winds floated them to the ear of Psyche. Her affectionate heart palpitated with domestic sympathies; she dwelt on the thoughts of home, and sighed to console them. The brilliant inchant

ments that flattered her self-love, and her senses, never reached her heart; and the caresses of an invisible husband, did not compensate for the severity of her solitude. She requested once more to embrace her sisters. Her husband instantly rejected her intreaty, which, however, he had anticipated, and warned her of the fatal consequences; but overcome by her beauty, her tears and her caresses, he at length consented, on condition, however, that if her sisters indiscreetly enquired who her husband was, she would never acquaint them of his strict command, that she should never attempt either to see, or to know him. Psyche promised every thing; and the same Zephyr that had transported her to this delicious abode, conveyed on its wings her two sisters.

After having embraced each other a hundred times, Psyche displayed to them the amazing beauties of her enchanting residence. Dazzled by such magnificence, they ask who was the husband, or rather the god, who assembled in one spot such beauties of nature, and such splendours of art? Psyche, faithful to her promise, answers that he was a beautiful youth whose cheek was scarcely shadowed by its down; but fearful to betray her secret, she sends her sisters back to her family with rich gifts. They returned in a few days, but with sentiments of a different colour from those they had first felt.

To the sisterly affection of longing to embrace Psyche, and the rapture of having found her, now succeeded all the madness of envy, and the desire of her ruin. They feigned at first to participate in her felicity and her pleasures; afterwards they urged her to tell them the name, and describe the person of her husband; and the prudent, but forgetful, Psyche, who had quite lost the recollection of her former account, painted him with quite different features.

Convinced now that she had never seen her husband, they pretend to compassionate her destiny, and they wish, as they declare, that it was allowed them to be silent; but their duty and their tenderness compel them to warn her of a danger that menaced her tranquillity. They recal to her mind the frightful prediction of the Oracle. This unknown husband was no doubt some horrid monster, to whose ferocity she would one day assuredly

become the victim.-The alarmed and trembling Psyche abandons herself entirely to the counsels of her perfidious sisters, who engage to bring her a lamp and a dagger, and advise her to seize that moment of time when the monster would be asleep, to pierce him with her poniard. Alas! the too credulous Psyche accepts these fatal gifts!

At the fall of the night the husband arrives, caresses his beloved wife, and sleeps; then Psyche softly slides from his encircling arms, and taking in one hand the lamp she had concealed, and in the other holding the poniard, she advances, she approaches; but-O heavens! what is her surprise, while by the light of the lamp, which, as if kindled by magic, suddenly bursts into a wavering splendour, she perceives LOVE himself reposing in the most charming attitude! Pale, trembling, and dismayed, she directs the steel she pointed at the god to her own bosom; but the poniard falls from her hand. While she contemplates the lovely object before her, she regains her strength, and the more she examines the heavenly boy, the more beautiful he appears, and with a softer influence the enchantment steals over her senses. She beholds a head adorned with flowing and resplendent tresses, diffusing celestial odours; some fall carelessly in curls on cheeks more beautifully blushing than the rose; while others float on a neck whiter than milk. On his shoulders are white wings whose tender and delicate down, tremulously alive, is brilliant as the flowers yet humid with morning dew. His body was smooth and elegant; the proud perfection of Venus! At the foot of the bed lay his bow, his quiver, and his arrows; and the curious Psyche, unwearied, touches and retouches his propitious weapons. From the quiver she draws out one of the arrows, and with the tip of her finger touching the point to try its sharpness, her trembling hand pierces the flesh, and small drops of rosy blood are sprinkled on her skin. At that instant she felt the wound in her heart; there it was not slight! Deliciously enamoured she gazes on the face of Love with insatiable eyes; she breathes the warmest kisses; and trembles lest he should awake.

While she yields to the rapture of her soul, ardent and lost, from the lamp (as if it longed to touch the beautiful body its light so sweetly tinted) a drop of boiling oil falls on the right shoulder of the god. Love awakes,

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