For whom should Sappho ufe fuch arts as these?
He's gone, whom only she defir'd to please!
Cupid's light darts my tender bofom move,
Still is there cause for Sappho ftill to love: 90
So from my birth the Sifters fix'd my doom,
And gave to Venus all my life to come;
Or, while my Mufe in melting notes complains,
My yielding heart keeps measure to my strains,
By charms like thine which all
foul have won,
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 fleep,
And bid Endymion nightly tend his fheep. 100
Venus for those had rapt thee to the skies,
But Mars on thee might look with Venus' eyes.
O fcarce a youth, yet scarce a tender boy!
O useful time for lovers to employ !
Pride of thy age, and glory of thy race,
Come to these arms, and melt in this embrace!
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 lefs
my sense, the more my love appears. IIQ
Si tam certus eras hinc ire, modeftius iffes, I10 Et modo dixiffes: Lefbi puella, vale.
Non tecum lacrymas, non ofcula fumma tulifti ; Denique non timui, quod dolitura fui.
Nil de te mecum eft, nifi tantum injuria: nec tu,
Admoneat quod te, pignus amantis habes..
Non mandata dedi ; neque enim mandata dediffem
Ulla, nifi ut nolles immemor effe mei.
Per tibi, qui nunquam longe difcedat; Amorem,
Perque novem juro, numina noftra, Deas;
Cum mihi nefcio quis, Fugiunt tua gaudia, dixit:
Nec me flere diu, nec potuiffe loqui ;
Et lacrymae deerant oculis, et lingua palato :
Aftrictum gelido frigore pectus erat.
Poftquam fe dolor invenit; nec pectora plangi,
Nec puduit fciffis exululare comis.
Non aliter quam fi nati pia mater adempti
Portet ad extructos corpus inane rogos.
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 faid;
Or coldly thus, Farewell, oh Lesbian maid!
No tear did you, no parting kiss receive,
Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve.
No lover's gift your Sappho could confer,
And wrongs and woes were all left with her.
No charge I gave you, and no charge could give,
But this, Be mindful of our loves, and live. 120
Now by the Nine, thofe pow'rs ador'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 fome fad ftatue, fpeechless, pale I ftood, 125
Grief chill'd my breast, and stopp'd my freezing
No figh to rife, no tear had pow'r to flow,
Fix'd in a stupid lethargy of woe:
But when its way th' impetuous paffion found,
breaft I wound; 130
I rend my treffes, and my
I rave, then weep; I curse, and then complain;
Now fwell to rage, now melt in tears again.
Not fiercer pangs diftract the mournful dame,
Whose first-born infant feeds the fun'ral flame.
Gaudet, et e noftro crescit moerore Charaxus 135
Frater; et ante oculos itque reditque meos.
Utque pudenda mei videatur causa doloris;
Quid dolet haec? certe filia vivit, ait.
Non veniunt in idem pudor atque amor: omne videbat
Vulgus; eram lacero pectus aperta finu. 140 Tu mihi cura, Phaon; te fomnia noftra reducunt; Somnia formofo candidiora die.
Illic te invenio, quanquam regionibus abfis; 145
Sed non longa fatis gaudia fomnus habet.
Saepe tuos noftra cervice onerare lacertos,
Saepe tuae videor fuppofuiffe meos.
Blandior interdum, verifque fimillima verba
Eloquor; et vigilant fenfibus ora meis.
Ofcula cognofco; quae tu committere linguae,
Aptaque confueras accipere, apta dare.
Ulteriora pudet narrare; fed omnia fiunt.
Et juvat, et fine te non libet effe mihi.
At cum fe Titan oftendit, et omnia fecum ;
Tam cito me fomnos deftituiffe queror.
My scornful brother with a smile appears, 135
Infults 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 inconfiftent things are love and shame!
'Tis thou art all my care and my delight,
My daily longing, and my dream by night:
Oh night more pleasing than the brightest day,145
When fancy gives what absence takes away,
And, drefs'd in all its vifionary charms,
Reftores my fair deferter to my arms!
Then round your neck in wanton wreaths Itwine,
Then you, methinks, as fondly circle mine: 150
A thousand tender words I hear and speak;
A thousand melting kiffes give, and take:
Then fiercer joys, I blush to mention these,
Yet, while I blush, confess how much they please.
But when, with day, the sweet delufions fly, 155
And all things wake to life and joy, but I,
As if once more forfaken, I complain,
And close my eyes to dream of you again :
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