I kifs that earth which once was prefs'd by you,
And all with tears the with'ring herbs bedew.
For thee the fading trees appear to mourn,
And birds defer their fongs till thy return:
Night shades the groves, and all in filence lie, 175
All but the mournful Philomel and I :
With mournful Philomel I join my strain,
Of Tereus fhe, of Phaon I complain.
A fpring there is, whofe filver waters show,
Clear as a glass, the fhining fands below :
A flow'ry Lotos spreads its arms above,
Shades all the banks, and feems itself a grove;
Eternal greens the moffy margin grace,
Watch'd by the fylvan Genius of the place.
Here as I lay, and swell'd with tears the flood, 185
Before my fight a watʼry Virgin stood:
She stood and cry'd, "O you that love in vain!
66 Fly hence, and feek the fair Leucadian main;
"There stands a rock, from whose impending steep Apollo's fane furveys the rolling deep; "There injur'd lovers, leaping from above, "Their flames extinguish, and forget to love. "Deucalion once with hopeless fury burn'd, "In vain he lov'd, relentless Pyrrha scorn'd: "But when from hence he plung'd into the main, "Deucalion fcorn'd, and Pyrrha lov'd in vain.
"Hanc legem locus ille tenet, pete protinus altam "Leucada; nec faxo defiluiffe time."
Ut monuit, cum voce abiit. Ego frigida furgo: 200
Nec gravidae lacrymas continuere genae.
Ibimus, o Nymphae, monftrataque faxa petemus.
Sit procul infano victus amore timor.
Quicquid erit, melius quam nunc erit: aura, fubito.
Et mea non magnum corpora pondus habent.
Tu quoque, mollis Amor, pennas fuppone cadenti:
Ne fim Leucadiae mortua crimen aquae.
Inde chelyn Phoebo communia munera ponam:
Et fub ea verfus unus et alter erunt.
"Grata lyram pofui tibi, Phoebe, poëtria Sappho :
"Convenit illa mihi, convenit illa tibi."
Cur tamen Actiacas miferam me mittis ad oras,
Cum profugum poffis ipfe referre pedem ?
Tu mihi Leucadia potes effe falubrior unda :
Et forma et meritis tu mihi Phoebus eris.
An potes, o fcopulis undaque ferocior illa,
Si moriar, titulum mortis habere meae ?
Hafte; Sappho, hafte, from high Leucadia throw Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below!", She spoke, and vanifh'd with the voice-I rife, And filent tears fall trickling from my eyes. I go, ye Nymphs! thofe rocks and feas to prove; How much I fear, but ah, how much I love! I go, ye Nymphs, where furious love inspires; Let femalé fears fubmit to female fires.
To rocks and feas I fly from Phaon's hatė,
And hope from feas and rocks a milder fate.
Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow,
And foftly lay me on the waves below!
And thou, kind Love, my finking limbs fuftain,
Spread thy foft wings, and waft me o'er the main,
Nor let a Lover's death the guiltlefs flood profane! On Phoebus' fhrine my harp I'll then beftow,
And this Infcription fhall be plac'd below,
"Here the who fung, to him that did inspire, Sappho to Phoebus confecrates her Lyre;
"What fuits with Sappho, Phoebus, fuits with thee;
"The gift, the giver, and the God agree."
But why, alas, relentless youth, ah why
To diftant Seas must tender Sappho fly?
Thy charms than those may far more pow'rful be, And Phoebus' felf is lefs a God to me.
Ah! can't thou doom me to the rocks and fea,
Oh far more faithlefs and more hard than they
At quanto melius jungi mea pectora tecum,
Quam poterant faxis praecipitanda dari !
Haec funt illa, Phaon, quae tu laudare folebas;
Vifaque funt toties ingeniofa tibi.
Nunc vellem facunda forent: dolor artibus obftat ;
Ingeniumque meis fubftitit omne malis.
Non mihi refpondent veteres in carmina vires. 230
Plectra dolore tacent: muta dolore lyra eft.
Lefbides aequoreae, nupturaque nuptaque proles;
Lesbides, Aeolia nomina dicta lyra;
Lesbides, infamem quae me feciftis amatae ;
Definite ad citharas turba venire meas.
Abftulit omne Phaon, quod vobis ante placebat. 235
(Me miferam ! dixi quam modo pene, meus!)
Efficite ut redeat: vates quoque veftra redibit.
Ingenio vires ille dat, ille rapit.
Ecquid ago precibus? pectufne agrefte movetur?
An riget? et Zephyri verba caduca ferunt ?
Qui mea verba ferunt, vellem tua vela referrent.
Hoc te, fi faperes, lente, decebat opus.
Sive redis, puppique tuae votiva parantur
Munera ; quid laceras pectora noftra mora?
Ah! canft thou rather fee this tender breaft
Dash'd on these rocks than to thy bofom preft? 225
This breaft which once, in vain! you lik'd fo well;
Where the Loves play'd, and where the Mufes dwell.
Alas! the Mufes now no more inspire,
Untun'd my lute, and filent is my lyre,
My languid numbers have forgot to flow,
And fancy finks beneath a weight of woe.
Ye Lesbian virgins, and ye Lesbian dames,
Themes of my verfe, and objects of my flames,
No more your groves with my glad songs shall ring,
No more these hands fhall touch the trembling ftring:
My Phaon's fled, and I those arts resign
(Wretch that I am, to call that Phaon mine!)
Return, fair youth, return, and bring along
Joy to my foul, and vigour to my fong:
Abfent from thee, the Poet's flame expires;
But ah! how fiercely burn the Lover's fires?
Gods! can no pray'rs, no fighs, no numbers move
One favage heart, or teach it how to love?
The winds my pray'rs, my fighs, my numbers bear,
The flying winds have loft them all in air!.
Or when, alas! shall more auspicious gales
To these fond eyes reftore thy welcome fails?
If you return-ah why thefe long delays?
Poor Sappho dies while carelefs Phaon ftays.
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