With mournful Philomel I join my ftrain,
Of Tereus the, of Phaon I complain.
A spring there is, whose filver 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.
Here as I lay, and swell'd with tears the flood,
Before my fight a wat'ry Virgin stood,
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.
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 Supra ramos extendit aquatica lotos,
Una nemus; tenero cefpite terra viret.
Hic ego cum lafssos pofuissem fletibus artus,
Conftitit ante oculos Naias una meos.
Conftitit, & dixit, “Quoniam non ignibus æquis
Ureris, Ambracias terra petenda tibi.
"Phœbus ab excelso, quantum patet, afpicit æquor; 190
Actiacum 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 scorn'd, and Pyrrha lov'd in vain. "Haste Sapho, haste, from high Leucadia throw Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below! She spoke, and vanish'd with the voice-I rife, 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 submit to female fires.
To rocks and feas I fly from Phaon's hate,
And hope from seas and rocks a milder fate.
Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow,
And softly lay me on the waves below!
" Hinc fe Deucalion Pyrrhæ fuccenfus amore,
Mifit, & illæso corpore pressit aquas. "Nec mora; verfus amor fugit lentissima merfi Pectora: Deucalion igne levatus erat.
" Hanc legem locus ille tenet. Pete protinus altam
Leucada; nec faxo defiluisse time."
Ut monuit, cum voce abiit. Ego territa furgo;
Nec gravidæ lacrymas continuere genæ.
Ibimus, ó Nymphe, monftrataque faxa petemus.
Sit procul infano victus amore timor.
Quicquid erit, melius quam nunc erit: aura fubito,
Et mea non magnum corpora pondus habent.
And thou, kind Love, my finking limbs sustain, Spread thy soft wings, and waft me o'er the main, 210 Nor let a Lover's death the guiltless flood profane! On Phœbus' shrine my harp I'll then bestow,
And this infcription shall be plac'd below.
"Here she who sung, to him that did inspire,
Sapho to Phœbus confecrates her Lyre;
"What suits with Sapho, Phœbus, suits with thee; "The gift, the giver, and the God agree.
But why, alas, relentless youth, ah why
To distant seas must tender Sapho fly?
Thy charms than those may far more pow'rful be, 220
And Phœbus' self is less a God to me.
Ah! can'st 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 Leucadicæ mortua crimen aquæ.
Inde chelyn Phœbo communia munera ponam:
Et fub ea verfus unus & alter erunt.
" Grata lyram pofui tibi, Phœbe, poëtria Sapho; 215
Convenit illa mihi, convenit illa tibi."
Cur tamen Actiacas miferam me mittis ad oras,
Cum profugum possis ipse referre pedem?
Tu mihi Leucadia potes esse falubrior unda :
Et forma & meritis tu mihi Phœbus eris.
An potes, ó fcopulis undaque ferocior illa,
Si moriar, titulum mortis habere mea?
Ah! can'st thou rather fee this tender breaft
Dafh'd on those 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 dwell.
Alas! the Muses 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 verse, and objects of my flames,
No more your groves with my glad fongs shall ring,
No more these hands shall touch the trembling string:
My Phaon's fled, and I those arts resign,
(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, quæ tu laudare folebas,
Visaque funt toties ingeniofa tibi :
Nunc vellem facunda forem, dolor artibus obstat;
Ingeniumque meis fubftitit omne malis.
Non mihi refpondent veteres in carmina vires:
Plectra dolore tacent, muta dolore lyra eft.
Lesbides æquoreæ, nupturaque, nuptaque proles,
Lesbides, Æolia nomina dicta lyra:
Lesbides, infamem quæ me feciftis amata:
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 savage heart, or teach it how to love?
The winds my pray'rs, my fighs, my numbers bear,
The flying winds have lost them all in air!
Oh when, alas! shall more aufpicious gales
To these fond eyes restore thy welcome fails?
If you return-ah why these long delays ?
Poor Sapho dies, while careless Phaon stays.
O launch thy bark, nor fear the watry plain;
Venus for thee shall smooth her native main.
O launch thy bark, secure of prosp'rous gales;
Cupid for thee shall spread the swelling fails.
Efficite ut redeat; vates quoque veftra redibit:
Ingenio vires ille dat, ille rapit.
Ecquid ago precibus? pectusne agreste 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.
Ipse gubernabit residens in puppe Cupido;
Ipfe dabit tenera vela legetque manu.
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