~Cupid and Psyche~
A Myth Retold By Stella
Once upon a
time, in a land quite
different from ours, there lived a king and queen. The king and queen had three daughters. The older two children, Penelope and Alyssa
were pretty, but Psyche was beautiful beyond description. She soon had suitor after suitor requesting
her hand and was worshiped as a goddess.
Not long
after this, Psyche’s older sisters were married and Psyche expected to marry soon
after. Venus, the most beautiful goddess,
shook her curls in frustration. “I deserve this homage.” She called upon
her boy, Cupid. “Go, call upon Psyche.
She is getting far too much attention.
Pierce her heart with one of your arrows. Make her long for a suitor most unworthy, a
mere plebeian!” Her musical laugh drifted through the air as her son
rose to do her bidding.
Cupid
slipped inside Psyche’s bedchambers as she slept. Her silky curls rimed her face like a halo,
and her rosy lips were curled in the sweetest smile. Her long lashes covered her violet eyes that
were now closed in sleep. He gazed at
her in awe. He regretfully pulled an
arrow from his quiver and put it to his bowstring. Eyes narrowing, he hesitated. Psyche turned in her sleep, and he jumped
with surprise, piercing his own heart with the arrow. As he betook himself to the sky, he felt an
irresistible longing for the beautiful girl he was leaving behind.
Mysteriously,
Psyche’s suitors no longer called. Her
parents grieved deeply and questioned the gods.
The oracle came back: Perhaps your
daughter is destined to be married to no mortal. Leave her up on the highest
mountain, and see if a god takes her hand.
The parents were hurt even more by this message. Psyche, however, realized her duty and soon
found herself up on top of that mountain.
Tears welled up in her eyes and she gazed heavenward, as she mouthed a
prayer. A strong wind lifted her up and
she knew no more. She awoke in a
beautiful grassy dell. In front of her
was a gold palace. Its pillars were made
of marble, decorated with fine gems and the whitest paint she had ever
seen. Silk streamers hung from the
highest pillars. A marble fountain gushed the coolest water Psyche had ever
felt. A voice like that of a god said: “Come
in Psyche. Come into your chambers,
bathe, and feast.”
Invisible
attendants tended to her every want. Her
clothing was replaced with the softest, prettiest dress she had ever worn. The feast spread in front of her seemed too
good to be true. Psyche spent many
evenings talking to Cupid. As the novelty
of her surroundings wore off, she begged him to let her behold his face for
just a moment. “No, Psyche.” He would
firmly reply. “I want your love as it is.
I don’t want you to love me for appearance.” Though her curiosity pricked
her, she complied. Her married life was
filled with joy, and Psyche was content.
II.
After a
while Psyche asked her husband if he could send her sisters to the palace.
“If that is what you wish.” He answered
and despatched servants who quickly brought Psyche’s sisters. Psyche showed them her new home. Her beautiful clothes, perfect health and
lush surroundings caused the Penelope and Alyssa to become jealous. Their sour expressions were lost on their
merry little sister.
“What about
your husband? Where is he?” They prodded.
“He is,”
Psyche paused for a moment and answered timidly, “out on business.”
“What is he
like?” Penelope asked, brown eyes narrowing.
“Yes,”
Alyssa, “we have heard rumors of him being a monster. What does he look like?”
“He’s kind,
and ever so good to me. And
he’s…handsome.” Psyche’s tentative reply encouraged the sisters’ questions and
they soon got Psyche to admit that she had never actually seen her husband.
“Are you to
be swept off your feet that easily?” Alyssa teased. Penelope came up with a
plan:
“When your
husband is asleep tonight, go to him with a lamp and a knife. Gaze upon his face. If he is a beast, do away with him, and be
freed.” The sisters waited in the shadows.
Psyche’s curiosity got the better of her.
Late that
night, Psyche glided through the palace halls and opened her husband’s
door. She silently slipped across the
floor and with a trembling hand held the lamp above her husband’s face. It was beautiful to behold. His face was pure white. A mass of golden curls ringed his face, and
his hazel eyes were closed with long dark lashes quaking. Because her hand trembled so violently,
Psyche spilled some of the candle wax on his fair skin. His eyes opened and with a start he beheld at
his wife. She had dropped the knife and
was on her knee on the floor, gazing tearfully into his hurt face. He leaned close to her and whispered. “You
doubted me, Psyche. My mother, Venus,
was angry that I brought you here in the first place. I must leave you, but that will be your only
punishment.” He suddenly disappeared and
Psyche was left alone. Suddenly with a
whirl her palace disappeared and instead of the brightly polished floors of her
husband’s bedchambers, Psyche found herself beside the stream. Her sisters smiled at each other. They inwardly gloated as they feigned tears
and tried to get their sister to leave the dell.
“See, your
palace and your husband is gone. There
is nothing left for you here.”
“There is
nothing left for me anywhere,” Psyche sobbed.
After a day of tears and gnawing hunger pains, Psyche walked down the
other side of the mountain. She couldn’t
return to her parents. She would spend
the rest of her life in an eternal search for her husband. She searched temple after temple. One day she chanced upon a particularly
beautiful one.
“Whose temple is this, please?” The
priest gazed upon this curious creature.
Her ragged black dress hung limply around her beautiful figure. Her violet eyes were piteous and rimmed with
tears. Her curls were tangled and her
cheeks damp. Psyche told her story and
the priest ruminated on her plight.
“Enter the temple and perhaps Venus
will take pity on you.” Psyche entered the chamber where wrathful Venus waited
in anticipation.
III.
“Who are you to come into my
presence?” Venus’s white face flamed with indignation. Venus’s crimson lips pursed as Psyche froze
in terror. “You must prove your devotion to my son by diligence. With a sweep of her hand, the room around
them changed. The throne room she had
entered became a damp, dismal cell.
Heaps of rice, wheat, lentils, barley, and grains were piled as high as
Psyche. “Sort these grains for my
pigeons by nightfall.” Venus handed her a dozen sacks, smiled craftily and
swept out of the room.
Psyche’s eyes widened and she threw
herself on the floor, gazing at the piles.
Cupid entered, unnoticed. He
gazed upon the piteous figure and stirred up thousands of ants who took all the
piles and promptly sorted them. Psyche
was struck dumb with amazement. When
Venus came back, the ants were gone, and Psyche had just finished tying up the
last sack. “NO! It can’t be!” Venus tore her dress in frustration. “This is no mortal’s work. You have only completed one of my three
tasks. The second is at hand.” With
another swoop of her hand, Venus melted the walls of the cell and left Psyche
in a little heap by the edge of a river.
“Cross and get me a bundle of fleece from those golden sheep.” The river god took pity on the girl.
“Do not go over now, child.” The
waters shimmered as the voice rose with the waves. “The rams will crush you in
their fury. Go after noon when they have
left the riverside to graze.” Psyche obeyed and sat by the side of the river
until the proper hour came. She stepped
into the river, and a giant wave appeared out of nowhere, swept her off her
feet and carried her over. Psyche
gathered huge bundles of the fleece from the thorny bracken and laid it beside
the river. Implacable Venus appeared
again. “You are not yet done.” She
hissed. “Go to the underworld and fetch me some of Porserpine’s beauty in this
box. I will be waiting for you at my
temple.” A gilded box with a diamond clasp appeared in her Psyche’s hand.
Psyche was sure she was doomed. A half mile or so away, Psyche noticed a
tower. She climbed it and stood at the
top. “I have tried to find you, dear
husband, to no avail.” She closed her
eyes and prepared to throw herself out of the window.
Cupid took pity on her again and
disguised his voice saying: “Child, do not kill yourself in this gruesome
way. Go, do Venus’s bidding.” He gave
her instructions. He told her how to get
past Cerberus to Charon who would ferry her over to Porserpine. “But do not
open the box.” Psyche obeyed. As she
was walking out past Cerberus, after she had fetched the beauty, she gazed at
the brilliant sun with delight. She had succeeded!
“Now, I must go back to the temple
of Venus.” Psyche gazed at the little box and whispered to herself, “Why
shouldn’t I open it? If I rub a tiny bit
of this beauty on myself, maybe-oh maybe! - my husband will return to me.”
Psyche opened the box. Instead of
beauty, a deep sleep came over Psyche and she fell lightly onto the green
grass. Cupid had a renewed longing for
Psyche, and he came down to see her.
Finding her in a deep sleep, he sighed.
“Dear Psyche. Again your
curiosity has nearly destroyed you.” He severed one of his curls from his
forehead and dropped it on her pale cheek.
Instantly, Psyche rose, refreshed and able to do Venus’s bidding. As she returned the box, Cupid begged Jupiter
to intervene and soothe Venus’s anger so that he might be reunited with Psyche. After many flowery words, Venus finally
agreed to the match. Falling in his arms,
Psyche wept with joy. “Now, Psyche. Drink this ambrosia, and you will be
immortal.” Psyche drank it and was
finally united to her husband. Soon
after they had a daughter. Her name was
Happiness.
By: Stella
Grade: 8th Age: 13
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