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Tho' fhort my ftature, yet my name extends
To heav'n itself, and earth's remoteft ends.
Brown as I am, an Ethiopian dame
Infpir'd young Perfeus with a gen'rous flame;
Turtles and doves of diff'ring hues unite,
And gloffy jet is pair'd with shining white.
If to no charms thou wilt thy heart resign,
But fuch as merit, fuch 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:
No time the dear remembrance can remove,
For oh! how vaft a memory has love?
My mufic, then, you could for ever hear,
And all my words were mufic to your ear.
You stopp'd with kiffes my enchanting tongue, 55
And found my kiffes fweeter than my fong.
In all I pleas'd, but most in what was best;
And the last joy was dearer than the rest.
Then with each word, each glance, each motion fir'd,
You ftill enjoy'd, and yet you ftill defir'd,
'Till all diffolving in the trance we lay,
And in tumultuous raptures dy'd away.


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Nunc tibi Sicelides veniunt nova praeda puellae ;
Quid mihi cum Lefbo? Sicelis effe volo.
At vos erronem tellure remittite noftrum,
Nifiades matres, Nifiadefque nurus,

Neu vos decipiant blandae mendacia linguae; 65
Quae dicit vobis, dixerat ante mihi.

Tu quoque quae montes celebras, Erycina, Sicanos,
(Nam tua fum) vati confule, diva, tuae.
An gravis inceptum peragit fortuna tenorem? 70
Et manet in curfu femper acerba fuo ?
Sex mihi natales ierant, cum lecta parentis
Ante diem lacrymas offa bibere meas.
Arfit inops frater, victus meretricis amore;
Miftaque cum turpi damna pudore tulit.
Factus inops agili peragit freta coerula remo:


Quafque 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 caufa querelis:
Non agitur vento nostra carina suo.

Ecce jacent collo fparfi fine lege capilli;

Nec premit articulos lucida gemma meos. Vefte 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 boaft
That wand'ring heart which I fo lately loft;
Nor be with all thofe tempting words abus'd,
Thofe tempting words were all to Sappho us'd.
that rule Sicilia's happy plains,
Have pity, Venus, on your Poet's pains!
Shall fortune ftill in one fad tenor run,
And still increase the woes fo foon begun ?
Inur'd to forrow from



my tender


My parent's ashes drank my early tears :


My brother next, neglecting wealth and fame, 75
Ignobly burn'd in a deftructive flame:

An infant daughter late my griefs increas'd,
And all a mother's cares diftract my breaft.
Alas, what more could fate itself impose,
But thee, the laft and greatest of my woes?
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 coftly sweetness of Arabian dews,
Nor braids of gold the varied tresses bind,
That fly disorder'd with the wanton wind :



Cui colar infelix? aut cui placuiffe laborem?

Ille mihi cultus unicus auctor abeft.

Molle meum levibus cor eft violabile telis;

Et femper caufa eft, cur ego femper amem. 90 Sive ita nafcenti legem dixere forores,

Nec data funt vitae fila fevera meae;

Sive abeunt ftudia in mores, artefque magistrae,
Ingenium nobis molle Thalia facit.
Quid mirum, fi me primae lanuginis aetas
Abftulit, atque anni, quos vir amare potest?
Hunc ne pro Cephalo raperes, Aurora, timebam:
Et faceres; fed te prima rapina tenet.
Hunc fi confpiciat, quae confpicit omnia, Phoebe;
Juffus erit fomnos continuare Phaon.

Hunc Venus in coelum curru vexiffet eburno;
Sed videt et Marti poffe placere fuo.

O nec adhuc juvenis, nec jam puer! utilis aetas!
O decus, atque aevi gloria magna tui!

Huc ades, inque finus, formofe, relabere noftros: 105 Non ut ames oro, verum ut amare finas. Scribimus, et lacrymis oculi rorantur obortis : Afpice, quam fit in hoc multa litura loco.


For whom should Sappho ufe fuch arts as these?
He's gone, whom only the defir'd to please!
Cupid's light darts my tender bofom move,
Still is there caufe for Sappho ftill to love:
So from my birth the Sifters fix'd my doom,
And gave to Venus all my life to come;
Or while my Mufe in melting notes complains,
My yielding heart keeps measure to my ftrains.
By charms like thine which all my foul have won,
Who might not --- ah! who would not be undone?
For those Aurora Cephalus might scorn,

And with fresh blushes paint the confcious morn.
For those might Cynthia lengthen Phaon's fleep,
And bid Endymion nightly tend his sheep.

Venus for those had rapt thee to the skies,


But Mars on thee might look with Venus' eyes, O fcarce a youth, yet scarce a tender boy!

O useful time for lovers to employ !

Pride of thy age, and glory of thy race,


Come to these arms, and melt in this embrace!

The vows you never will return, receive;
And take at least the love you will not give.
See, while I write, my words are lost in tears;
The less my fenfe, the more my love appears. 110

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