Soft scenes of folitude no more can please,
Love enters there, and I'm my own disease.
No more the Lesbian dames my passion move,
Once the dear objects of my guilty love;
All other loves are loft in only thine,
Ah youth ungrateful to a flame like mine!
Whom would not all those blooming charms fur-
Those heav'nly looks, and dear deluding eyes? The harp and bow would you like Phœbus bear, A brighter Phœbus Phaon might appear; Would you with ivy wreath your flowing hair, 25 Not Bacchus' self with Phaon could compare: Yet Phœbus lov'd, and Bacchus felt the flame; One Daphne warm'd, and one the Cretan dame: Nymphs that in verse no more could rival me, 30 Than ev'n those Gods contend in charms with thee, The Muses teach me all their fofteft lays,
And the wide world refounds with Sappho's praise. Tho' great Alcæus more fublimely sings,
And strikes with bolder rage the founding strings, No less renown attends the moving lyre,
Which Venus tunes, and all her loves inspire; To me what nature has in charms deny'd,
Is well by wit's more lasting flames suply'd、
Sum brevis; at nomen, quod terras impleat omnes,
Est mihi; menfuram nominis ipsa fero.
Candida fi non fum, placuit Cepheïa Perseo
Andromede, patriae fusca colore fuae :
Et variis albae junguntur saepe columbae,
Et niger a viridi turtur amatur ave.
Si, nifi quae facie poterit te digna videri,
Nulla futura tua est; nulla futura tua est.
At me cum legeres, etiam formosa videbar;
Unam jurabas usque decere loqui.
Cantabam, memini (meminerunt omnia amantes)
Oscula cantanti tu mihi rapta dabas.
Haec quoque laudabas; omnique a parte placebam,
Sed tum praecipue, cum fit amoris opus.
Tunc te plus folito lafcivia nostra juvabat,
Crebraque mobilitas, aptaque verba joco.
Quique, ubi jam amborum fuerat confufa voluptas,
Plurimus in lasso corpore languor erat.
Tho' short my stature, yet my name extends
To heav'n itself, and earth's remotest ends. 40
Brown as I am, an Ethiopian dame
Inspir'd young Perseus with a gen'rous flame;
Turtles and doves of diff'ring hues unite,
And glossy jet is pair'd with shining white.
If to no charms thou wilt thy heart refign,
But such as merit, such as equal thine,
By none, alas! by none thou canst be mov'd,
Phaon alone by Phaon must be lov'd!
Yet once thy Sappho could thy cares employ,
Once in her arms you center'd all your joy: 50
No time the dear remembrance can remove,
For oh! how vast a memory has love?
My mufic, then, you could for ever hear,
And all my words were music to your ear.
You stopp'd with kisses my enchanting tongue, 55
And found my kisses sweeter than my fong.
In all I pleas'd, but most in what was beft;
And the last joy was dearer than the reft.
Then with each word, each glance, each motion fir'd,
You still enjoy'd, and yet you still defir'd,
'Till all dissolving in the trance we lay,
And in tumultuous raptures dy'd away.
Nunc tibi Sicelides veniunt nova praeda puellae;
Quid mihi cum Lesbo? Sicelis esse volo,
At vos erronem tellure remittite nostrum,
Nifiades matres, Nifiadesque nurus.
Neu vos decipiant blandae mendacia linguae: 65
Quae dicit vobis, dixerat ante mihi.
Tu quoque quae montes celebras, Erycina, Sicanos,
(Nam tua sum) vati consule, diva, tuae.
An gravis inceptum peragit fortuna tenorem? 70
Et manet in cursu semper acerba fuo?
Sex mihi natales ierant, cum lecta parentis
Ante diem lacrymas offa bibere meas.
Arsit inops frater, victus meretricis amore;
Mistaque cum turpi damna pudore tulit.
Factus inops agili peragit freta coerula remo: 75
Quasque male amifit, nunc male quaerit opes:
Me quoque, quod monui bene multa fideliter, odit,
Hoc mihi libertas, hoc pia lingua dedit.
Et tanquam defint, quae me fine fine fatigent,
Accumulat curas filia parva meas.
Ultima tu noftris accedis causa querelis:
Non agitur vento nostra carina suo.
Ecce jacent collo sparsi fine lege capilli;
Nec premit articulos lucida gemma meos. Veste tegor vili: nullum eft in crinibus aurum: Non Arabo nofter rore capillus olet.
The fair Sicilians now thy foul inflame;
Why was I born, ye Gods, a Lesbian dame?
But ah beware, Sicilian nymphs! nor boast
That wand'ring heart which I so lately loft;
Nor be with all those tempting words abus'd,
Those tempting words were all to Sappho us'd.
And you that rule Sicilia's happy plains,
Have pity, Venus, on your poet's pains!
Shall fortune still in one fad tenor run,
And still increase the woes so foon begun?
Inur'd to forrow from my tender years,
My parent's 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 encreas'd,
And all a mother's cares distract my breaft,
Alas, what more could fate itself impose,
But thee, the last and greatest of my woes? 80
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,
That fly disorder'd with the wanton wind:
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