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AY, lovely youth, that doft my heart command,

Can Phaon's eyes forget his Sappho's hand ?
Must then her name the wretched writer prové,
To thy remembrance loft, as to thy love?
Ask not the cause that I new numbers chuse,

The lute neglected, and the Lyric Muse;
Love taught my tears in fadder notes to flow,
And tund my heart to Elegies of woe.
I burn, I burn, as when through ripen'd corn
By driving winds the spreading fames are borne.
Phaon to Ætna’s scorching fields retires,
While I consame with more than Ætra's fires !



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ECQUID, ut inspecta eft ftudiofae littera dextrae,

Protinus est oculis cognita noftra tuis ?
An, nisi legisses auctoris nomina Sapphûs,

Hoc breve nescires unde movetur opus ?
Forsitan et quare mea sint alterna requiras

Carmina, cum lyricis fim magis apta modis.
Flendus amor meus eft : elegeïa Aebile carmen ;

Non facit ad lacrymas barbitos ulla meas.
Uror, ut, indomitis ignem exercentibus Euris,

Fertilis accenfis messibus ardet ager.
Arva Phaon celebrat diversa Typhoïdos Ætnae,

Me calor Ætnaeo non minor igne coquit.

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No more my soul a charm in music finds,
Music has charms alone for peaceful minds.
Soft scenes of folitude no more can please,
Love enters there, and I'm my own disease.
No more the Lesbian dames my passion move,
Once the dear objects of my guilty love ;
All other loves are loft in only thine,
Ah, youth ungrateful to a flame like mine!
Whom would not all those blooming charms surprize;
Those heavenly looks, and dear deluding eyes ?
The harp and bow would you like Phoebus bear,
A brighter Phoebus Phaon might appear ;
Would you with ivy wreathe your flowing hair, 25
Not Bacchus' self with Phaon could compare :
Yet Phoebus lov'd, and Bacchus felt the flame,
One Daphne warm’d, and one the Cretan dame;



Nec mihi, difpofitis quae jungam carmina nervis,

Proveniunt; vacuae carmina mentis opus. Nec me Pyrrhiades Methymniadesve puellae,

Nec me Lesbiadum caetera turba juvant. Vilis Anactorie, vilis mihi candida Cydno : Non oculis

grata est Atthis, ut ante, meis; Atque aliae centum, quas non fine crimine amavi:

Improbe, multarum quod fuit, unus habes.
Eft in te facies, sunt apti lusibus anni.

O facies oculis infidiofa meis !
Sume fidem et pharetram ; fies manifeftus Apollo ;

Accedant capiti cornua ; Bacchus eris.

Nymphs that in verse no more could rival me,
Then ev’n those Gods contend in charms with thee. 30
The Muses teach me all their softest lays,
And the wide world resounds with Sappho's praise.
Though great Alcæus more sublimely fings,
And strikes with bolder rage the founding strings,
No less renown attends the moving lyre,

Which Venus tunes, and all her Loves inspire;
To me what nature has in charms deny'd,
Is well by wit's more lasting flames supply'd.
Though short my ftature, yet my name extends
To heaven itself, and earth's remotest ends,

49 Brown as I am, an Ethiopian dame Inspir'd young Perseus with a generous flame; Turtles and doves of differing hues unite, And glossy jet is pair'd with thining white,

If Et Phoebus Daphnen, et-Gnofida Bacchus-amavit; Nec norat lyricos illa, vel illa modos.

30 At mihi Pegafides blandissima carmina dictant;

Jam canitur toto nomen in orbe meum.
Nec plus Alcaeus, confors patriaeque lyraeque,

Laudis habet, quamvis grandius ille sonet.
Si mihi difficilis formam natura negavit;

35 Ingenio formae damna rependo meae. Sum brevis; at nomen, quod terras impleát omnes,

Eft mihi; menfuram nominis ipfa fero. Candida fi non fum, placuit Cepheïa Perfeo

Andromede, patriae fufca colore fuae : Et varjis albae junguntur saepe columbae,

Et niger a viridi turtur amatur ave,

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If to no charms thou wilt thy heart resign,

45 But such as-merit, such as equal thine, By none, alas! by none thou canst be mov'd: Phaon alope by Phaon must be lov'd ! Yet once thy Sappho could thy cares employ, Once in her arms you center'd all your joy: No time the dear remembrance can remove, For, oh! how vast a memory has love! My Music, then, you could for ever hear, And all my words were music to your ear. You stopp'd with kisses my enchanting tongue, 55 And found my kisses sweeter than my song. In all I pleas'd, but most in what was best; And the last joy was dearer than the rest. Then with each word, each glance, each motion fir'd, You still enjoy'd, and yet you still desir’d, Till all diffolving in the trance we lay, And in tumultuous raptures dy'd away.




Si, nifi quae facie peterit te digna videri,

Nulla futura tua eft; nulla futura tua est.
At me cum legeres, etiam formosa videbar;

Unam jurabas ufque decere loqui.
Cantabam, memini (meminerunt omnia amantes)

Ofcula cantanti tu mihi rapta dabas.
Haec quoque laudabas ; omnique a parte placebam,

Sed tum praecipue, cum fit amoris opus.
Tunc te plus folito lascivia noftra juvabat,

Crebraque, mobilitas, aptaque verba joco;




The fair Sicilians now thy foul infiame;
Why was I born, ye Gods! a Lesbian dame ?
But ah, beware, Sicilian nymphs! nor boast
That wandering heart which I fo lately loft ;
Nor be with all those tempting words abusod,
Those tempting words were all to Sappho us'd.
And you that rule Sicilia's happy plains,
Have pity, Venus, on your poet's pains !
Shall fortune ftill in one fad tenor run,
And still increase the woes so soon begun!
Inur'd to forrow from my tender years,
My parents alhes drank my early tears ;




Quique, ubi jam amborum fuerat confusa voluptas,

Plurimus in laffo corpore languor erat.
Nunc tibi Sicelides veniunt nøya praeda puellae ;

Quid mihi cum Lelbo? Șicelis esse volo,
At vos erronem tellure remittite noftrum,

Nifiades matres, Nifadesque nurus.
Neu vos decipiant blandae mendacia linguae :

Quae dicit vobis, dixerat ante mihi.
Tu quoque quae montes celebras, Erycina, Sicanos,

(Nam tua sum) vati consule, diva, tuae. An gravis inceptum peragit fortuna tenorem? 70

Et manet in cursu semper acerba suo? Sex mihi natales ierant, cum lecta parentis

Ante diem lacrymas ossa bibere meas. Arsit inops frater, victus meretricis amore ;

Miftaque cum turpi damna pudore tulit.

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