Cupid and Psyche Continued

Back to the part where Cupid's real form is discovered:

Startled, awakened by hot oil from Psyche's lamp falling on his shoulder, Cupid springs to action and flies out the window. Psyche, stunned by Cupid's striking form and not thinking clearly, tries to follow him. She proceeds to extend out the window to reach Cupid, and - having no wings, herself, plummets to the ground instead.

Cupid, seeing Psyche's fall, pauses briefly to look upon her form, sprawled in the dust below and says:

"O foolish Psyche, is it thus you repay my love? After having disobeyed my mother’s commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and cut off my head? But go; return to your sisters, whose advice you seem to think preferable to mine. I inflict no other punishment on you than to leave you forever. Love cannot dwell with suspicion."

That said, Cupid flew away, leaving Psyche lying in the dirt, alone. After a time, a semblance of her composure returned and she noticed that she was no longer surrounded by the makings of the palace and gardens she had become accustomed to. Instead, she found herself near to the town where her sisters lived and once able, she composed herself further and went to them, telling her sisters of her ordeal.

Her sisters pretended to grieve with Psyche over her lost mate, however, they inwardly rejoiced, thinking then that perhaps now, Cupid would select one of them as a mate.
(Same character flaws that the step-sisters have in 'Cinderella'?)

With this in mind, the next morning, each of the sisters rose early and went out to the mountain, ascending to the top, and called Psyche's Zephyr, expecting that Zephyr would take each to his lord, Cupid. Zephyr, however, would bear neither of the sisters, and as each sister leapt to mount Zephyr, and Zephyr not sustaining their weight, each fell fast into the crevice below, dashed to pieces.

Meanwhile, in her grief, Psyche wandered, day and night, neither sleeping nor eating, constantly searching for her husband. Glancing up to view a magnificent mountain with what appeared a temple at its heights, she resolved to go there, thinking that perhaps, Cupid resided there.

She gained entry to the temple, and found herself surrounded by heaps of corn all around, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, and the corn was mixed with ears of barley. Tools of harvest lay about, too - sickles and rakes - lay carelessly strewn about, and Psyche's reaction was to put some order to this careless array of instruments.

She separated and sorted things into their proper types and places, believing she should honour the gods by doing so. Also, this might gain back the favour of the gods, and no sooner had she set the place in better order than Ceres (Greek, Demeter) noticed her efforts and spoke:

"O Psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though I cannot shield you from the frowns of Venus, yet I can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. Go, then, and voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have lost."

Cupid and Psyche (Is This Familiar?)

(Roman deity names)

It is said that long ago a particular couple of quite some status (A king and queen) had 3 daughters - of which, the youngest was breathtakingly beautiful. The two older daughters were charming and attractive enough, however, this youngest daughter's beauty was without sufficient words to describe.

Strangers from neighboring areas would flock to pay her the kind of honour usually reserved for only Venus (Greek, Aphrodite) herself - to the extent that Venus' altars were often deserted while people offered praise and song to the young maiden.

Naturally, this offended Venus, who demanded, "Am I to be eclipsed in my honors by a mortal girl?" Venus soon asserted, "[...she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. I will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty."

Venus called her winged son, Cupid (Greek, Eros) - the mischievous one, and made heavy complaint to him. She pointed out Psyche, saying, "My dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give thy mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph."

Cupid obediently filled two amber vases from each two fountains within Venus' garden - one with flowing sweet waters, and one fountain of bitter water. He rushed to the chamber that Psyche frequented, but found her asleep. He placed a few drops from the bitter fountain to Psyche's lips though the view of her sleeping in all her unaware beauty moved him to pity. Still, he touched one of his arrows to her side and at this, she awoke.

So startled was Cupid at being under Psyche's sudden, awakened gaze, that he started, jabbing himself with his own arrow.

Despite his wound, his concern was entirely for undoing the mischief he had just started with Psyche, and he poured drops of the sweet water, drops of joy, all over Psyche's silken ringlets to counteract the effects of the bitter water.

Because Psyche's beauty overpowered the instructions Venus gave to her son, Venus was additionally insulted and enraged. Psyche's parents became actuely aware of this and they feared the anger of the Goddess, so they went to consult the oracle of Apollo on this matter. The oracle gave this answer:

"The virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. Her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. He is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist."

The awful decree of the oracle filled everyone with dismay and her parents grieved with abandon.

Psyche asked, "Why, dear parents, do you now lament me? You should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me Venus. I now perceive that I am a victim to that name. I submit. Lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me."

The people prepared a procession and the royal maid took up her place within it, though it resembled a funeral procession much more than a nuptial occasion. Together, with her parents, family and community, Psyche ascended the mountain. On the summit everyone left her alone, with sadness in their hearts and they returned home.

As Psyche stood atop the mountain consumed with fear, her eyes brimming with tears, the gentle Zephyr (Or, Zephyrus, sometimes Favonius in Roman) lifted her from the earth and carried her effortlessly into a flowery dale. Gradually, she was able to compose her mind and she lay herself down on the grassy bank to sleep. When she awoke, refreshed, she looked around, spotting a grove of tall, magnificent trees and walked toward it.

Entering the grove, she walked until she encountered a fountain which spouted crystal-clear waters. Nearby, a spectacular and impressive palace loomed, which she took to be unlike the work from any mortal hands. Drawn to the palace, she couldn't stop her urge to enter. Every object within filled her with wonder, the golden pillars supporting the vaulted roof, the carved and richly painted walls, the scenarios of beasts of the chase and rural scenes in the paintings themselves all served to charm her immeasurably.

As she walked further into the building, she perceived that other rooms would also present all manner of treasure, beautiful and precious productions of nature and
art, and so she continued on.

Finally, a voice addressed her then became many - though she could see no sources of the words:

"Sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. We whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with out utmost care and diligence. Retire, therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit repair to the bath. Supper awaits you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there."

Psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her attendants, though mere voices with no form. After repost and refreshing herself with a bath, she seated herself in the alcove where a table immediately presented itself - strangely, with no aid from visible waiters or servants. It was covered with the tenderest and greatest food delicacies, including the finest wines. Music played, as well, feeding her ears from invisible sources, including a lute and the wonderful harmony of a full chorus.

[Does this remind you of another, more modern story?]