SAPPHO

This is the spot:—‘ tis here Tradition says

That hopeless Love from this high towering rock

Leaps headlong to Oblivion or to Death.

Oh‘ tis a giddy height! my dizzy head

Swims at the precipice —‘ tis death to fall!

Lie still, thou coward heart! this is no time

To shake with thy strong throbs the frame convuls'd.

To die,— to be at rest — oh pleasant thought!

Perchance to leap and live; the soul all still,

And the wild tempest of the passions husht

In one deep calm; the heart, no more diseas'd

By the quick ague fits of hope and fear,

Quietly cold!

Presiding Powers look down!

In vain to you I pour'd my earnest prayers,

In vain I sung your praises: chiefly thou

VENUS! ungrateful Goddess, whom my lyre

Hymn'd with such full devotion! Lesbian groves,

Witness how often at the languid hour

Of summer twilight, to the melting song

Ye gave your choral echoes! Grecian Maids

Who hear with downcast look and flushing cheek

That lay of love bear witness! and ye Youths,

Who hang enraptur'd on the empassion'd strain

Gazing with eloquent eye, even till the heart

Sinks in the deep delirium! and ye too

Shall witness, unborn Ages! to that song

Of warmest zeal; ah witness ye, how hard,

Her fate who hymn'd the votive hymn in vain!

Ungrateful Goddess! I have hung my lute

In yonder holy pile: my hand no more

Shall wake the melodies that fail'd to move

The heart of Phaon — yet when Rumour tells

How from Leucadia Sappho hurl'd her down

A self-devoted victim — he may melt

Too late in pity, obstinate to love.

Oh haunt his midnight dreams, black NEMESIS!

Whom,self-conceiving in the inmost depths

Of CHAOS, blackest NIGHT long-labouring bore,

When the stern DESTINIES, her elder brood.

And shapeless DEATH, from that more monstrous birth

Leapt shuddering! haunt his slumbers, Nemesis,

Scorch with the fires of Phlegethon his heart,

Till helpless, hopeless, heaven-abandon'd wretch

He too shall seek beneath the unfathom'd deep

To hide him from thy fury.

How the sea

Far distant glitters as the sun-beams smile,

And gayly wanton o'er its heaving breast

Phoebus shines forth, nor wears one cloud to mourn

His votary's sorrows! God of Day shine on —

By Man despis'd, forsaken by the Gods,

I supplicate no more.

How many a day,

O pleasant Lesbos! in thy secret streams

Delighted have I plung'd, from the hot sun

Screen'd by the o'er-arching groves delightful shade,

And pillowed on the waters: now the waves

Shall chill me to repose.

Tremendous height!

Scarce to the brink will these rebellious limbs

Support me. Hark! how the rude deep below

Roars round the rugged base, as if it called

Its long-reluctant victim! I will come.

One leap, and all is over! The deep rest

Of Death, or tranquil Apathy's dead calm

Welcome alike to me. Away vain fears!

Phaon is cold, and why should Sappho live?

Phaon is cold, or with some fairer one —

Thought worse than death!

( She throws herself from the precipice. )