From the Dushenka, p. 8

’Twere but vain daring thro’ dark time to range,
Chasing the shadowy forms of words, which change,
For ever restless, gave to beauty’s power:
All lived an hour, and perished with that hour:
The subject of the aspiring poet’s lay
Is that fair royal maiden, youngest child
Of the eastern monarch, whom with passion wild
Crowds honoured, loved and sigh’d for night and day,
She by the Greeks called Psyche--meaning
(According to our learned ones’ explaining)
A soul, or spirit:--our philosophers
Thinking that all that’s tender, fair and bright,
Must needs be hers,
Named her Dushenka;--thus
A word so sweet, so musical to us,
With all the charm of novelty,
O loveliest Psyche, was conferred on thee!
Conveyed from tongue to tongue, its throne it found
In memory’s archives:--its melodious sound
Now breathes the angel-harmony of love,
A music and a radiance from above.