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Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow, And softly lay me on the waves below! And thou, kind Love, my finking limbs sustain, Spread thy foft wings, and waft me o'er the main, Nor let a Lover's death the guiltless flood profane! On Phoebus' shrine my harp I'll then bestow, 212 And this Infcription fhall be plac'd below, "Here fhe who fung, to him that did inspire,

Sappho to Phœbus confecrates her Lyre; 215 "What suits withSappho, Phœbus, fuits 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,
And Phoebus' felf is lefs a God to me.
Ah! canft thou doom me to the rocks and fea,
Oh far more faithless and more hard than they?
Ah! canst thou rather see this tender breast
Dash'd on these rocks than to thy bosom prest? 225
This breast which once, in vain! you lik'd so well;
Where the Loves play'd, and where the Muses

Alas! the Mufes now no more inspire,
Untun'd my lute, and filent is my lyre,


Non mihi refpondent veteres in carmina vires. 230 Plectra dolore tacent: muta dolore lyra eft. Lefbides aequoreae, nupturaque nuptaque proles; Lesbides, Aeolia nomina dicta lyra;

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Lefbides, infamem quae me feciftis amatae;
Definite ad citharas turba venire meas. 234
Abftulit omne Phaon, quod vobis ante placebat.
(Me miferam! dixi quam modo pene, meus!)
Efficite ut redeat: vates quoque veftra redibit.
Ingenio vires ille dat, ille rapit.
Ecquid ago precibus? pectufne agrefte movetur?
An riget? et Zephyri verba caduca ferunt ?
Qui mea verba ferunt, vellem tua vela referrent.
Hoc te, fi faperes, lente, decebat opus.
Sive redis, puppique tuae votiva parantur
Munera; quid laceras pectora noftra mora ?
Solve ratem; Venus orta mari, mare praeftet eunți,
Aura dabit curfum; tu modo folve ratem.

My languid numbers have forgot to flow, 230
And fancy finks beneath a weight of woe.
Ye Lesbian Virgins, and ye Lesbian dames,
Themes of my verfe, and objects of my flames,
No more your groves with my glad fongs fhall ring,
No more these hands fhall touch the trembling


My Phaon's fled, and I those arts refign


(Wretch that I am, to call that Phaon mine!)
Return, fair youth, return, and bring along
Joy to my foul, and vigour to my song:
Absent from thee, the Poet's flame expires; 240
But ah! how fiercely burn the Lover's fires?
Gods! can no pray'rs, no fighs, no numbers move
One favage heart, or teach it how to love?
The winds my pray'rs, my fighs, my numbers

The flying winds have loft them all in air! 245
Or when, alas! fhall more aufpicious gales
To these fond eyes restore thy welcome fails?


you return---ah why these long delays?

Poor Sappho dies while careless Phaon stays.

O launch thy bark, nor fear the wat'ry plain; 250 Venus for thee shall smooth her native main.

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Ipfe gubernabit refidens in puppe Cupido:
Ipfe dabit tenera vela legetque manu.
Sive juvat longe fugiffe Pelafgida Sappho
(Non tamen invenies, cur ego digna fuga.) 255
[O faltem miferae, Crudelis, epiftola dicat :
Ut mihi Leucadiae fata petantur aquae.]

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O launch thy bark, fecure of profp'rous gales;
Cupid for thee shall spread the swelling fails.
If you will fly---(yet ah! what cause can be,
Too cruel youth, that you should fly from me?)
If not from Phaon I must hope for ease, 256
Ah let me seek it from the raging feas:
To raging feas unpity'd I'll remove,

And either cease to live or cease to love!

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