Then round your neck in wanton wreaths I twine,
Then you, methinks, as fondly circle mine;
A thousand tender words I hear and speak;
A thousand melting kisses give and take;

150

Then fiercer joys,---I blush to mention these,

Yet, while I blush, confess how much they please.
But when, with day, the sweet delusions fly,

155

And all things wake to life and joy but I,

As if once more forsaken, I complain,

And close my eyes to dream of you again;
Then frantic rise, and like some fury rove

Thro' lonely plains, and thro' the silent grove,

160

As if the silent grove, and lonely plains,

That knew my pleasures, could relieve my pains.

Sæpe tuos nostra cervice onerare lacertos,
Sæpe tuæ videor supposuisse meos.

150

Blandior interdum, verisque simillima verba
Eloquor; et vigilant sensibus ora meis.
Oscula cognosco; quæ tu committere linguæ,
Aptaque consueras accipere, apta dare.
Ulteriora pudet narrare; sed omnia fiunt.
Et juvat, et sine te non libet esse mihi.

At cum se Titan ostendit, et omnia secum;

155

Tam cito me somnos destituisse queror.

Antra nemusque peto, tanquam nemus antraque Conscia deliciis illa fuere tuis.

[prosint;

Illuc mentis inops, ut quam furialis Erichtho

159

Impulit, in collo crine jacente feror.

I view the grotto, once the scene of love,

The rocks around, the hanging roofs above,

That charm'd me more, with native moss o'ergrown,
Than Phrygian marble, or the Parian stone.

I find the shades that veil'd our joys before;
But, Phaon gone, these shades delight no more.
Here the press'd herbs with bending tops betray
Where oft entwin'd in am'rous folds we lay;
I kiss that earth which once was press'd by you,
And all with tears the with'ring herbs bedew.
For thee the fading trees appear to mourn,
And birds defer their songs till thy return;

166

170

Night shades the groves, and all in silence lie,
All but the mournful Philomel and I:

175

Antra vident oculi scabro pendentia topho,

Quæ mihi Mygdonii marmoris instar erant.

166

Invenio sylvam, quæ sæpe cubilia nobis
Præbuit, et multa texit opaca coma.
At non invenio dominum sylvæque, meumque.
Vile solum locus est: dos erat ille loci.
Agnovi pressas noti mihi cespitis herbas:

De nostro curvum pondere gramen erat.
Incubui, tetigique locum qua parte fuisti ;
Grata prius lacrymas combibit herba meas.
Quinetiam rami positis lugere videntur

Frondibus; et nullæ dulce queruntur aves. Sola virum non ulta pie moestissima mater

Concinit Ismarium Daulias ales Ityn.

170

175

With mournful Philomel I join my strain,
Of Tereus she, of Phaon I complain.

A spring there is, whose silver waters show,
Clear as a glass, the shining sands below;
A flow'ry lotos spreads its arms above,
Shades all the banks, and seems itself a grove;
Eternal greens the mossy margin grace,
Watch'd by the sylvan genius of the place.

180

Here as I lay, and swell'd with tears the flood,

185

Before my sight a watʼry Virgin stood:

She stood and cry'd, "O you that love in vain! "Fly hence, and seek the fair Leucadian main; "There stands a rock, from whose impending steep, 'Apollo's fane surveys the rolling deep; "There injur'd lovers, leaping from above, "Their flames extinguish, and forget to love.

Ales Ityn, Sappho desertos cantat amores:
Hactenus, ut media cætera nocte silent.
Est nitidus, vitroque magis perlucidus omni,
Fons sacer; hunc multi numen habere putant.
Quem supra ramos expandit aquatica lotos,
Una nemus; tenero cespite terra viret.

180

Hic ego cum lassos posuissem fletibus artus,

185

Constitit ante oculos Naias una meos; Constitit, et dixit: "Quoniam non ignibus æquis "Ureris, Ambracias terra petenda tibi.

190

"Phoebus ab excelso, quantum patet, aspicit æquora "Actiacum populi Leucadiumque vocant.

"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 scorn'd, and Pyrrha lov'd in vain, 196 "Haste, Sappho, haste, from high Leucadia throw "Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below!" She spoke, and vanish'd with the voice---I rise, And silent tears fall trickling from my eyes. I go, ye Nymphs! those rocks and seas to prove; How much I fear, but ah, how much I love! I go, ye Nymphs! where furious love inspires; Let female fears submit to female fires. To rocks and seas I fly from Phaon's hate,

And hope from seas and rocks a milder fate,

200

205

Ye gentle Gales, beneath my body blow,
And softly lay me on the waves below!

"Hinc se Deucalion Pyrrhæ succensus amore

"Misit, et illæso corpore pressit aquas.

196

"Nec mora: versus amor tetigit lentissima Pyrrhæ

"Pectora; Deucalion igne levatus erat.

"Hanc legem locus ille tenet; pete protinus altam "Leucada; nec saxo desiluisse time."

Ut monuit, cum voce abiit. Ego frigida surgo; 200 Nec gravidæ lacrymas continuere genæ.

204

Ibimus, O nymphæ, monstrataque saxa petemus.
Sit procul insano victus amore timor.
Quicquid erat, melius quam nunc erit; aura, subito:
Et mea non magnum corpora pondus habent.

And thou, kind Love, my sinking limbs sustain,
Spread thy soft wings, and waft me o'er the main,
Nor let a lover's death the guiltless flood profane! 211
On Phoebus' shrine my harp I'll then bestow,
And this inscription shall be plac'd below :

"Here she who sung, to him that did inspire,

"What suits with Sappho, Phoebus, suits with thee; "The gift, the giver, and the god agree."

But why, alas! relentless youth, ah why To distant seas must tender Sappho fly?

Thy charms than those may far more pow'rful be, 220 And Phoebus' self is less a god to me.

Ah! canst thou doom me to the rocks and sea,

Oh, far more faithless and more hard than they?
Ah! canst thou rather see this tender breast
Dash'd to these rocks, than to thy bosom press'd? 225

Tu quoque mollis amor, pennas suppone cadenti,
Ne sim Leucadiæ mortua crimen aquæ.

Inde chelyn Phoebo communia munera ponam;' 212
Et sub ea versus unus et alter erunt.

"Grata lyram posui tibi, Phoebe, poetria Sappho: 215
"Convenit illa mihi, convenit illa tibi."
Cur tamen Actiacas miseram me mittis ad oras,
Cum profugum possis ipse referre pedem ?
Tu mihi Leucadia potes esse salubrior unda :
Et forma et meritis tu mihi Phoebus eris.'
An potes, o scopulis undaque ferocior illa,
Si moriar, titulum mortis habere meæ ?

220