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If none but equal Charms thy Heart can bind,
Then to thy felf alone thou maft be kind,
Yet worthlefs as I am, there was a time
When Phaon thought me worthy his Efteem.
A thousand tender things to Mind I call,
For they who truly love remember all.
Delighted with the Mufick of my Tongue,
Upon my Words with filent Joy he hung,
And fnatching Kisses, stopp'd me as I fung.
Kiffes, whofe melting Touch his Soul did move,
The Earnest of the coming Joys of Love.

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Then tender Words, fhort Sighs, and thousand Charms
Of wanton Arts endear'd me to his Arms;
Till both expiring with tumultuous Joys,
A gentle Faintnefs did our Limbs furprize.
Beware, Sicilian Ladies, ah! beware

How you

receive my

faithlefs Wanderer.

You too will be abus'd, if you believe

The flatt'ring Words that he fo well can give.
Loofe to the Winds, I let my flowing Hair
No more with fragrant Scents perfume the Air,
But all my Dress difcovers wild Despair.
For whom, alas! fhould now my Art be fhown?
The only Man I car'd to please is gone.

Oh let me once more fee those Eyes of thine.
Thy Love I ask not, do but fuffer mine.

Thou might'ft at least have ta’en thy last Farewel,
And feign'd a Sorrow which thou didst not feel,
No kind remembring Pledge was afk'd by thee,
And nothing left but Injuries with me.

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Witness,

Witness, ye Gods, with what a Death-like Cold
My Heart was feiz'd, when first thy Flight was told.
Speechlefs and ftupid for a while I lay,

And neither Words nor Tears could find their way.
But when my fwelling Paffion forc'd a Vent,
With Hair dishevel'd, Clothes in pieces rent ;
Like fome mad Mother thro' the Streets I run,
Who to his Grave attends her only Son.
Expos'd to all the World my felf I fee,
Forgetting Virtue, Fame, and all but thee;
So ill, alas! do Love and Shame agree!
'Tis thou alone that art my conftant Care,
In pleafing Dreams thon comfort'ft my Despair;
And mak'ft the Night, that does thy Form convey,
Welcome to me above the fairest Day.

Then 'fpight of Abfence, I thy Love enjoy;
In clofe Embraces lock'd methinks we lye;
Thy tender Words I hear, thy Kiffes feel,
With all the Joys that Shame forbids to tell,
But when I waking miss thee from my Bed,
And all my pleafing Images are fled;
The dear deluding Vision to retain,
I lay me down, and try to fleep again.
Soon as I rife I haunt the Caves and Groves,
(Those conscious Scenes of our once happy Loves
There like fome frantick Bacchanal I walk,
And to my felf with fad Distraction talk.
Then big with Grief I throw me on the Ground,
And view the melancholy Grotto round,
Whofe hanging Roof of Mofs and craggy Stone
Delights my Eyes above the brightest, Throne ;

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But when I fpy the Bank, whofe graffy Bed
Retains the Print our weary Bodies made;
On thy forfaken Side I lay me down,

And with a Show'r of Tears the Place I drown.
The Trees are wither'd all fince thou art gone,
As if for thee they put their Mourning on.
No warbling Bird does now with Mufick fill
The Woods, except the mournful Philomel.
With hers my difmal Notes all Night agree,
Of Tereus fhe complains, and I of thee.
Ungentle Youth! didst thou but see me mourn,
Hard as thou art, thou wou'dft, thou wou'dst return.
My conftant falling Tears the Paper stain,
And my weak Hand can scarce direct my Pen.
Oh could thy Eyes but reach my dreadful State,
As now I ftand prepar'd for fudden Fate,
Thou cou'dft not fee this naked Breaft of mine
Dafht against Rocks, rather than join'd to thine.
Peace, Sapho, peace! thou fend'ft thy fruitless Cries
To one more hard than Rocks, more deaf than Seas.
The flying Winds bear thy Complaints away,
But none will ever back his Sails convey.
No longer then thy hopeless Love attend,
But let thy Life here with thy Letter end.

SAPHO

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AY, lovely Youth, that doft my Heart command,

SAY,

Can Phaon's Eyes forget his Sapho's Hand?
Muft then her Name the wretched Writer prove?
To thy Remembrance loft, as to thy Love!
Ak not the Caufe that I new Numbers chufe,
The Lute neglected, and the Lyric Muse;
Love taught my Tears in fadder Notes to flow,
And tun'd my Heart to Elegies of Woe.

I burn, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd Corn
By driving Winds the spreading Flames are born!
Phaon to Etna's fcorching Fields retires,

While I confume with more than Etna's Fires!
No more my Soul a Charm in Mufick finds,
Mufick has Charms alone for peaceful Minds:
Soft Scenes of Solitude no more can please,
Love enters there, and I'm my own Disease:
No more the Lefbian Dames my Paffion 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!

B 3

Whom

Whom wou'd not all thofe blooming Charms furprize,

Thofe heav'nly Looks, and dear deluding Eyes?
The Harp and Bow wou'd you like Phœbus bear,
A brighter Phoebus, Phaon might appear;
Would you with Ivy wreath your flowing Hair,
Not Bacchus' felf with Phaon cou'd compare :
Yet Phoebus lov'd, and Bacchus felt the Flame,
One Daphne warm'd, and one the Cretan Dame;
Nymphs that in Verfe no more cou'd rival me,
Than ev'n thofe Gods contend in Charms with thee.
The Muses teach me all their foftest Lays,
And the wide World resounds with Sapho's Praise.
Tho' great Alcaus more fublimely fings,

And ftrikes with bolder Rage the founding Strings,
No lefs Renown attends the moving Lyre,
Which Cupid tunes, and Venus does infpire.
To me what Nature has in Charms deny'd
Is well by Wit's more lasting Charms fupply'd.
Tho' fliurt my Stature, yet my Name extends
To Heav'n it felf, 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 fhining White.
If to no Charms thou wilt thy Heart refign,
But fuch as merit, fuch as equal thine,
By none, alas! by none thou can't be mov'd,
Phaon alone by Phaon must be lov'd!
Yet once thy Sapha cou'd thy Cares employ,
Once in her Arms you center'd all your Joy :

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