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Like some sad statue, speechless, pale, I stood, 125
Grief chill'd my breast, and stopp'd 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 ; 130
I rave, then weep; I curse, and then complain;
Now swell to rage, now melt in tears again.
Not fiercer pangs distract the mournful dame,
Whose first-born infant feeds the fun'ral flame.
My scornful brother with a smile appears,
Insults my woes and triumphs in my tears,
His hated image ever haunts my eyes,

135

140

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,
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:
Oh 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!

Then round your neck in wanton wreath 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

NOTES.

Ver. 139. Stung with my love] The ten next verses are much superior to the original.

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;

Tam cito me somnos destituisse queror.

Antra nemusque peto; tanquam nemus antraque

prosint.

Conscia deliciis illa fuere tuis.

Illuc mentis inops, ut quam furialis Erichtho
Impulit, in collo crine jacente, feror.

Antra vident oculi scabro pendentia topho,

160

Quæ mihi Mygdonii marmoris instar erant.

Invenio sylvam, quæ sæpe cubilia nobis
Præbuit, et multa texit opaca coma:

166

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.
Quin etiam rami positis lugere videntur

Frondibus; et nullæ dulce queruntur aves.
Sola virum non ulta pie mœstissima mater
Concinit Ismarium Daulias ales Ityn:
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.

170

175

180

Then fiercer joys, I blush to mention these,

155

166

Yet, while I blush, confess how much they please.
But when, with day, the sweet delusions fly,
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
Through lonely plains, and through the silent grove,
As if the silent grove, and lonely plains,
161
That knew my pleasures, could relieve my pains.
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, those shades delight no more.
Here the press'd herbs with bending tops betray
Where oft entwin'd in am'rous folds we lay; 170
I kiss that earth which once was press'd by you,
And all with tears the withering herbs bedew.
For thee the fading trees appear to mourn,
And birds defer their songs till thy return:
Night shades the groves, and all in silence lie, 175
All but the mournful Philomel and I:
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

Quem supra ramos expandit aquatica lotos,
Una nemus; tenero cespite terra viret.
Hic ego cum lassos posuissem fletibus artus,
Constitit ante oculos Naïas una meos.
Constitit, et dixit, "Quoniam non ignibus æquis
"Ureris, Ambracias terra petenda tibi.

185

Phoebus ab excelso, quantum patet, aspicit æquor:
Actiacum populi Leucadiumque vocant.
Hinc se Deucalion Pyrrhæ succensus amore
Misit, et illæso corpore pressit aquas.

195

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.

Here as I lay, and swell'd with tears the flood, 185 Before my sight a wat❜ry Virgin stood :

190

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.
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.
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.

194

200

NOTES.

Ver. 188. Leucadian main;] Addison, with his usual exquisite humour, has given in the 233d Spectator an account of the persons, male and female, who leaped from the promontory of Leucate into the Ionian sea, in order to cure themselves of the passion of love. Their various characters, and effects of this leap, are described with infinite pleasantry. One hundred and twenty-four males, and one hundred and twenty-six females, took the leap in the 250th Olympiad; out of them one hundred and twenty were perfectly cured. Sappho, arrayed like a Spartan virgin, and her harp in her hand, threw herself from the rock with such intrepidity, as was never before observed in any who had attempted that very dangerous leap; from whence she never rose again, but was said to be changed into a swan as she fell, and was seen hovering in the air in that shape. Alcæus arrived at the promontory of Leucate that very evening, in order to take the leap on her account; but hearing that her body could not be found, he very generously lamented her fall, and is said to have written his 125th ode on that occasion.

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