commissioned Zephyr, who wafts her to a green and delightful valley. Here she enjoys a refreshing sleep; and on awakening perceives a grove, in the centre of which was a fountain, and near the fountain a splendid palace. The roof of this structure was supported by golden pillars, the walls were covered with silver, and every species of animal was represented in exquisite statuary at the portal; Psyche enters this edifice, where a splendid feast is prepared; she hears a voice inviting her to partake of this repast, but no one appears. After this sumptuous banquet is removed, she listens to a delightful concert, which proceeds from unseen musicians. In this enchanting residence she is espoused and visited every night by Cupid. Her husband, who was ever invisible, forbids her to attempt to see him; adding, that her happiness depended on obedience to the prohibition. In these circumstances Cupid, at her earnest solicitation, reluctantly agrees to bring her sisters to the palace. These relatives being envious of the happiness of their younger sister, try to persuade her that her husband is a serpent, by whom she would be ultimately devoured. Psyche, though by this time she should have been sufficiently qualified to judge how far this suspicion was well founded, resolves to satisfy herself of the truth by ocular demonstration. Bearing a lamp in one hand, and a dagger in the other to destroy him should he prove a monster, she approaches the couch of her husband while he is asleep. In the agitation produced by the view of his angelic form, she allows a drop of scalding oil to fall on his shoulder. The irritated god flies from her presence, and leaves her a prey to remorse and despair. The enchanted garden and the gorgeous palace vanish along with him. Psyche finds herself alone and solitary on the banks of a river. Under the protection of Pan she wanders through the country, and successively arrives at the kingdoms of her sisters, by each of whom she is repulsed. The victim equally of the rage of Venus and of her son, she roams through all regions of the earth in seach of the celestial lover whose favour she had forfeited. She is also subjected to various trials by Venus, one of which is to bring water from a fountain guarded by ever-watchful dragons. Jupiter, at length, takes pity on her misfortunes,

endows her with immortality, and confirms her union with her forgiving husband. On this occasion the Hours empurple the sky with roses; the Graces shed aromatic odours through the celestial halls; Apollo accompanies the lyre with his voice; the god of Arcadia touches his sylvan reeds; and the Muses join in the chorus.

This allegory is supposed by some writers to be founded on an obscure tradition of the fall of man, and to form an emblem of his temptation, transgression, repentance, and subsequent reception into the favour of the godhead. Its meaning, however, is probably more restricted, and only comprehends the progress of the soul to perfection, the possession of divine love, and reward of immortality. From the earliest times the influence of religious sentiments has been typified by the hopes and fears of an amatory attachment. This style of composition was adopted by the rhapsodists of Hindostan and Persia, and bewitched the luxuriant imagination of the wisest of mankind. Bryant in his Analysis of Ancient Mythology, (vol ii. 388,) informs us that one of the emblems among the Egyptians was Psyche (Yuxn), who, though represented as a beautiful female, was originally no other than the Aurelia, or butterfly, an insect which remains in a state of torpor during winter, but at the return of spring comes forth with new life, and in beautiful attire. This was deemed a picture of the soul of man, and of the immortality to which he aspired; and more particularly of Osiris, who, after being confined in a coffin, enjoyed a renewal of life. This second birth is described under the character of Psyche, and as it was the fruit of divine love, of which Eros was the emblem, we find him often introduced as a concomitant of Psyche.

Whatever may be the concealed meaning of the allegory, the story of Cupid and Psyche is certainly a beautiful fiction. Of this, the number of translations and imitations may be considered as a proof. Mr. Rose, in the notes to his version of Partenopex de Blois, has pointed out its striking resemblance to that romance, as also to the three Calenders, and to one of the Persian Tales. The prohibition of Cupid, and the transgression of Psyche, has suggested the Serpentin Vert of Mad. d'Aulnoy; indeed the la

bours to which Psyche is subjected seem to be the origin of all fairy tales, particularly Gracieuse et Percinet. The whole story has also been beautifully versified by Marino in his poem L'Adone. Cupid is introduced in the fourth book relating it for the amusement of Adonis, and he tells it in such a manner as to form the most pleasing episode of that delightful poem. I need not mention the well-known imitation by Fontaine, nor the drama of Psyche, which was performed with the utmost magnificence at Paris in 1670, and is usually published in the works of Moliere, but was in fact the effort of the united genius of that author, Corneille, Quinault, and Lulli.

Nor have the fine arts less contributed to the embellishment of this fable: the marriage of Cupid and Psyche has furnished Raphael with a series of paintings, which are among the finest of his works, and which adorn the walls of the Farnese Palace in the vicinity of Rome. In one compartment he has represented the council of the gods deliberating on the nuptials-in another the festival of the reconciliation. The frieze and casements are painted with the sufferings of Psyche, and the triumphs of Cupid over each individual god.

The monuments, too, of ancient sculpture represented Cupid and Psyche in the various circumstances of their adventures. It is from an ancient intaglio, a fine onyx in possession of the Duke of Marlborough, and from another, of which there is a print in Spence's Polymetis, that Darwin has drawn his beautiful picture in the fourth canto of the Botanic Garden :

So pure, so soft, with sweet attraction shone
Fair Psyche kneeling at the ethereal throne,
Won with coy smile the admiring court of Jove,
And warmed the bosom of unconquered Love.
Beneath a moving shade of fruits and flowers,
Onward they march to Hymen's sacred bowers;
With lifted torch he lights the festive train
Sublime, and leads them in his golden chain;
Joins the fond pair, indulgent to their vows,
And hides with mystic veil their blushing brows,
Round their fair forms their mingling arms they fling,
Meet with warm lip, and clasp with rustling wing.

CHAPTER III.

Origin of Romantic Fiction in Europe-Romances of Chivalry relating to the early and fabulous History of Britain, particularly to Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table-Merlin-SangrealPerceval-Lancelot du Lac-Meliadus-Tristan-Isaie le Triste -Artus-Gyron-Perceforest-Artus de la Bretagne-Cleriadus.

FABULOUS narrative, we have seen in a former part of this work, like almost every one of the arts of man, origi nated in the desire of perfecting and improving nature, of rendering the great more vast, the rich more splendid, and the gay more beautiful. It removed, as it were, from the hands of fortune the destinies of mankind, rewarded virtue and valour with success, and covered treachery and baseness with opprobrium.

It was soon perceived that men sympathize not with armies or nations, but with individuals; and the poet who sung the fall of empires, was forced to place a few in a prominent light, with whose success or misfortunes his hearers might be affected, while they were altogether indifferent to the rout or dissection of the crowds by which they were followed. At length, it was thought, that narratives might be composed where the interest should only be demanded for one or two individuals, whose adventures, happiness, or misery, might of themselves afford delight. The experiment was attended with success; and as men sympathize most readily with events which may occur to themselves, or the situations in which they have been, or may be, the incidents of fiction derived their character from the manners of the age. In a gay and luxurious country stories of love became acceptable. Hence the Grecian novels were composed, and as, in relating the adventures of the lovers, it was natural to depict what might really have taken place, the general features of the times, the inroads of pirates, religious ceremonies, &c. were chiefly delineated. The ascetic habits of the monks

in like manner gave rise to spiritual romance, and the notion of tranquillity in the fields of Greece may have suggested the beautiful rural images portrayed in the pastoral of Longus.

Now, when, by some great convulsion, a vast change is effected in manners, the incidents of fiction will neces⚫ sarily be changed also; first, because the former occurrence become less natural, and, secondly, give less delight. From the very nature then of domestic fiction, it must vary with the forms and habits and customs of society, which it must picture as they occur successively,

"And catch the manners living as they rise."

Never, in the annals of the human race, did a greater change of manners take place than in the middle ages, and accordingly, we must be prepared to expect a prodigious alteration in the character of fictitious literature, which, we have seen, may be expected to vary with the manners it would describe. But not only was there a change in the nature of the characters themselves, and the adventures which occurred to them, but a very peculiar style of em bellishment was adopted, which, as it does not seem to have any necessary connexion with the characters or adventures it was employed to adorn, has given the historians of literature no little labour to explain. The species of machinery, such as giants, dragons, and enchanted castles, which forms the seasoning of the adventures of chivalry, has been distinguished by the name of Romantic Fiction; and we shall now proceed to discuss the various systems which have been formed to account for its origin.

Different theories have been suggested for the purpose of explaining the origin of Romantic Fiction in Europe. The subject is curious, but is involved in much darkness and uncertainty.

To the northern Scalds, to the Arabians, to the people of Armorica or Britany, and to the classical tales of anti quity, has been successively ascribed the origin of those extraordinary fables, which have been "so wildly dis figured in the romances of chivalry, and so elegantly adorned by the Italian Muse."

In the investigation of this subject, a considerable con