With mournful Philomel I join my strain,
Of Tereus the, of Phaon I complain.
A fpring there is, whofe filver waters show
Clear as a glafs, the fhining fands below;
A flow'ry Lotos fpreads its arms above,
Shades all the banks, and seems itself a grove;
Eternal greens the moffy margin grace,
Watch'd by the fylvan Genius of the place.
Here as I lay, and fwell'd with tears the flood,
Before my fight a wat'ry Virgin ftood,
She flood and cry'd, "O you that love in vain!
Fly hence, and feek the fair Leucadian main;
"There ftands a rock from whofe impending steep. "Apollo's fane furveys the rolling deep;
There injur'd lovers leaping from above, "Their flames extinguish, and forget to love.
Ales Ityn, Sapho defertos cantat amores;
Hactenus, ut media cætera nocte filent.
Eft nitidus, vitroque magis perlucidus omni,
Fons facer; hunc multi numen habere putant.
Quem fupra ramos extendit aquatica lotos,
Una nemus; tenero cefpite terra viret.
Hic ego cum lajos pofuiffem fletibus artus,
Conftitit ante oculos Naias una meos.
Conftitit, & dixit, "Quoniam non ignibus æquis,
"Ureris, Ambracias terra petenda tibi.
"Phoebus ab excelfo, quantum patet, afpicit æquor; 199 "Altiacum 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, 195 "Deucalion fcorn'd, and Pyrrha lov'd in vain. "Hafte Sapho, hafte, from high Leucadia throw Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below! She spoke, and vanish'd with the voice—I rise, And filent tears fall trickling from my eyes. I go, ye Nymphs! those rocks and feas to prove; How much I fear, but ah, how much I love! I go, ye nymphs! where furious love inspires; Let female fears fubmit to female fires. To rocks and feas I fly from Phaon's hate, And hope from feas and rocks a milder fate. Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow, And foftly lay me on the waves below!
"Hinc fe Deucalion Pyrrha fuccenfus amore,
"Mifit, & illafo corpore preffit aquas.
"Nec mora; verfus amor fugit lentiffima merfi
"Pectora: Deucalion igne levatus erat.
"Hanc legem locus ille tenet. Pete protinus altam
"Leucada; nec faxo defiluiffe time.”
Ut monuit, cum voce abiit. Ego territa furgo;
Nec gravida lacrymas continuere gena.
Ibimus, 6 Nymphæ, monftrataque faxa petemus.
Sit procul infano vi&tus amore timor.
Quicquid erit, melius quam nunc erit: aura fubito,
Et mea non magnum corpora pondus habent.
And thou, kind Love, my finking limbs fuftain,
Spread thy foft wings, and waft me o'er the main, 210
Nor let a Lover's death the guiltless flood profane!
On Phœbus' fhrine my harp I'll then bestow,
And this infcription fhall be plac'd below.
"Here the who fung, to him that did inspire,
Sapho to Phoebus confecrates her Lyre;
"What fuits with Sapho, Phoebus, fuits with thee; "The gift, the giver, and the God agree.
But why, alas, relentless youth, ah why To diftant feas muft tender Sapho fly?
Thy charms than those may far more pow'rful be, 220
And Phœbus' felf is lefs a God to me.
Ah! can't thou doom me to the rocks and fea,
O far more faithless and more hard than they?
Tu quoque mollis Amor, pennas fuppone cadenti;
Ne fim Leucadia mortua crimen aquæ.
Inde chelyn Phabo communia munera ponam:
Et fub ea verfus unus & alter erunt.
"Grata lyram pofui tibi, Phabe, poëtria Sapho; 215
"Convenit illa mihi, convenit illa tibi."
Cur tamen Actiacas miferam me mittis ad oras,
Cum profugum poffis ipfe referre pedem?
Tu mibi Leucadia potes effe falubrior unda :
Et forma & meritis tu mihi Phœbus eris.
An potes, 6 fcopulis undaque ferocior illa,
Si moriar, titulum mortis habere mea?
Ah! can't thou rather fee this tender breast
Dafh'd on those rocks, than to thy bofom preft? 225
This breast which once, in vain! you lik'd fo well;
Where the Loves play'd, and where the Mufes dwell.
Alas! the Mufes now no more inspire,
Untun'd my lute, and filent is my lyre,
My languid numbers have forgot to flow,
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 ftring:
My Phaon's fled, and I thofe arts refign,
(Wretch that I am, to call that Phaon mine!)
Ab quanto melius jungi mea pectora tecum,
Quam poterant faxis præcipitanda dari!
Hæc funt illa Phaon, que tu laudare folebas,
Vifaque funt toties ingeniofa tibi:
Nunc vellem facunda forem, dolor artibus obftat;
Ingeniumque meis fubftitit omne malis.
Non mihi refpondent veteres in carmina vires:
Plectra dolore tacent, muta dolore lyra eft.
Lefbides æquorea, nupturaque, nuptaque proles,
Lefbides, Eolia nomina dicta lyra:
Lefbides, infamem quæ me feciftis amato
Definite ad cytharas turba venire meas.
Abftulit omne Phaon quod vobis ante placebat:
Me miferam, dixi quam modo pene Meus!
Return, fair youth, return, and bring along
Joy to my foul, and vigour to my fong:
Absent from thee, the Poet's flame expires,
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 bear,
The flying winds have loft them all in air!
Oh when, alas! fhall more aufpicious gales
To these fond eyes restore thy welcome fails?
If you return-ah why thefe long delays?
Poor Sapho dies, while careless Phaon ftays.
O launch thy bark, nor fear the watry plain;
Venus for thee shall smooth her native main.
O launch thy bark, fecure of profp'rous gales;
Cupid for thee fhall spread the swelling fails.
Efficite ut redeat; vates quoque veftra redibit:
Ingenio vires ille dat, ille rapit.
Ecquid ago precibus? pectufne agrefte movetur?
An riget?& Zephyri verba caduca ferunt?
Qui mea verba ferunt, vellem tua vela referrent;
Hoc te, fi faperes, lente, decebat opus.
Sive redis, puppique tuæ votiva parantur
Munera: quid laceras pectora noftra mora?
Solve ratem; Venus orta mari, mare præftet amanti.250
Aura dabit curfum; tu modo folve ratem.
Ipfe gubernabit refidens in puppe Cupido;
Ipfe dabit tenera vela legetque manu.
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