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Inur'd to sorrow from my tender years,

My parents' ashes drank my early tears;

My brother next, neglecting wealth and fame, 75

Ignobly burn'd in a destructive flame;

An infant daughter late my griefs increas'd,

And all a mother's cares distract my breast.

Alas! what more could Fate itself impose,

But thee, the last, and greatest of my woes? Jo

No more my robes in waving purple flow,

Nor on my hand the sparkling di'monds glow;

No more my locks in ringlets curl'd diffuse

The costly sweetness of Arabian dews,

Nor braids of gold the varied tresses bind, 85

That fly disorder'd with the wanton wind:

Sex mihi natales ierant, cum lecta parentis

Ante diem lacrymas ossa bibere meas. Arsit inops frater, victus meretricis amore; 75

Mistaque cum turpi damna pudore tulit. Factus inops agili peragit freta ccerula remo:

Quasque male amisit, nunc male quaerit opes: Me quoque, quod monui bene multa fideliter, odit.

Hoc mihi libertas, hoc pia lingua dedit. Et tanquam desint, quae me sine fine fatigent, , Accumulat curas filia parva meas. Ultima tu nostris accedis causa querelis: So

Non agitur vento nostra carina suo. Ecce, jacent collo sparsi sine lege capilli;

Nee premit articulos lucida gemma meos. Veste tegor vili; nullum est in crinibus aurum; Non Arabo noster rore capillus olet. £

For whom should Sappho use such arts as these?

He's gone, whom only she desir'd to please!

Cupid's light darts my tender bosom move,

Still is there cause for Sappho still to love: 90

So from my birth the sisters fix'd my doom,

And gave to Venus all my life to come;

Or, while my muse in melting notes complains,

My yielding heart keeps measure to my strains.

By charms like thine which all my soul have won, 95

Who might not—ah! who would not be undone?

For those Aurora Cephalus might scorn,

And with fresh blushes paint the conscious morn.

For those might Cynthia lengthen Phaon's sleep,

And bid Endymion nightly tend his sheep. 100

Cuicolar infelix? aut cui placuisse laborem?

I He mihi cultus unicus auctor abest. •

Molle meum levibus cor est violabile telis;

Et semper causa est, cur ego semper amem. 90

She ita nascent i legem dixere Sorores,

Nee data sunt vitae fila severa meae;
Sive abeunt studia in mores, artesque magistrae,

Ingenium nobis molle Thalia facit.
Quid mirum, si me prims lanuginis aetas 9;

Abstulit, atque anni, quos vir amarepotest?
Hunc ne proCephalo raperes, Aurora, timebam:

Et faceres; sed te prima rapina tenet.
Hunc si conspiciat quae conspicit omnia, Phoebe;

.lussus erit sonnies continuare Phaon. 100


Venus for those had rapt thee to the skies,

But Mars on thee might look with Venus' eyes.

O, scarce a youth, yet scarce a tender boy!

O useful time for lovers to employ!

Pride of thy age, and glory of thy race, Ioj

Come to these arms, and melt in this embrace I

The vows you never will return, receive;

And take, at least, the love you will not give.

See, while I write, my words are lost in tears!

The less my sense, the more my love appears. :10

Sure 'twas not much to bid one kind adieu,

(At least to feign was never hard to you:)

"Farewell, my Lesbian love!" you might have said;

Or coldly thus," Farewel, O Lesbian maid!"

No tear did you, no parting kiss receive, 11;

Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve.

Hunc Venus in ccelum curru vexisset eburno;

Sed videt et Marti posse placere suo.
O nee adhuc juvenis, nee jam puer! utilis aetas"!

O decus, atque aevi gloria magna tui!
Hue ades, inque sinus, formose, relabere nostras: IOJ

Non ut ames ore, verum u! amare sinas. Scribimus, et lacrymis ocnli rorantur obortiS:

Aspice, quam sit in hoc multa litura loco! fie

Si tam certus eras hinc ire, modestius,

Et modo dixisses, " Lesbi puella, vale." Non tecum lacrymas, non oscula sumnia 111 listi; f 15

Denique non timui, quod dolitura fui.

No lover's gift your Sappho could confer,

And wrongs and woes were all you left with her.

No charge I gave you, and nocharge couldgive,

But this, "Be mindful of our loves, and live." 120

Now by theNine, those pow'rsador'd by me,

And Love, the god that ever waits on thee,

When first I heard (from whom I hardly knew)

That you were fled and all my joys with you,

Like some sad statue, speechless, pale I stood, 125

Grief chill'd my breast, and stopt my freezing blood;

No sigh to rise, no tear had pow'r to flow,

Fix'd in a stupid lethargy of woe.

But when its way th' impetuous passion found,

I rend my tresses, and my breast I wound; 1 5o

I rave, then weep; I curse, and then complain;

Now swell to rage, now melt in tears again.

Nil de te mecum est, nisi tantum injuria: nee tu,

Admoneat quod te, pignus amantis habes.
Non mandata dedi; neque enim mandata dedissem

Ulla, nisi ut nolles immemor esse mei! 120

Per tibi, qui nuuquam longe discedat, Amorero,

Perque Novem juto, minima nostra, Deas, Cum mihi nescio quis, " fugiunt tua gaudia," dixit,

Nee me Here diu, nee potuisse loqui; 125

Et lacrymae deerant oculis, et lingua palato:

Astrictum gelido frigore pectus erat. Pos'quam se do!pr invenit, nee pectora plangi,

Nee puduit stissis exululare comis. 130 Not fiercer pangs distract the mournful dame,

Whose first-born infant feeds the funeral Hame.

My scornful brother with a smile appears, 135

Insults my woes, and triumphs in my tears;

His hated image ever haunts my eyes;

"And why this grief? thy daughter lives," he cries.

Stung with my love, and furious with despair,

All torn my garments, and my bosom bare, 140

My woes, thy crimes, I to the world proclaim;

Such inconsistent things are love and shame!

'Tis thou art all my care and my delight,

My daily longing, and my dream by night:

O night more pleasing than the brightest day, 145

When fancy gives what absence takes away;

And, dress'd in all its visionary charms,

Restores my fair deserter to my arms!

Non aliter quam si nati pia mater adempti

Portet ad extructos corpus inane rogos. Gaudet, et e nostrocrescit mcerore Charaxus 135

Frater; et ante oculos itque reditque meos. Utque pudenda mei videatur causa doloris,

"Quid dolet haec ? certe filia vivit," ait. Nonveniunt in idem pudoratque amor: omne videbat

Vulgus; eram lacero pectus aperta sinu. 14a

Tu mihi cura, Phaon; te somnia nostra reducunt;

Somnia formoso candidiora die.
Illic te invenio, quanquam regionibus absis;

Sed non longa satis gaudia somnus habet.

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