Still all thofe Joys to my Remembrance move,
For oh! how vaft a Memory has Love?

My Mufick, then, you cou'd for ever hear,
And all my Words were Mufick to your Ear.
You ftop'd with Kiffes my inchanting Tongue,
And found my Kiffes sweeter than my Song.
In all I pleas'd, but most in what was best;
And the laft Joy was dearer than the reft.

Then with each Word, each Glance, each Motion fir'd,
You still enjoy'd, and yet you still defir'd,

'Till all diffolving in the Trance we lay,
And in tumultuous Raptures dy'd away.
The fair Sicilians now thy Soul inflame;
Why was I born, ye Gods, a Lesbian Dame?
But ah beware, Sicilian Nymphs! nor boast
That wand'ring Heart which I fo lately loft;
Nor be with all thofe tempting Words abus'd,
Thofe tempting Words were all to Sapho us'd.
And you that rule Sicilia's happy Plains,
Have pity, Venus, on your Poet's Pains!
Shall Fortune ftill in one fad Tenor run,
And ftill increase the Woes fo foon begun?
Enur'd to Sorrows from my tender Years,
My Parent's Ashes drank up all my Tears;
My Brother next, neglecting Wealth and Fame,
Ignobly burn'd in a destructive Flame;
An Infant Daughter late my Griefs, increaft,,
And all a Mother's Cares diftract my Breast..
Alas, what more could Fate itself impofe,
But Thee, the laft and greatest of my Woes?

No more my Robes in waving Purple flow,
Nor on my Hand the sparkling Diamonds glow,
No more my Locks in Ringlets curl'd diffuse
The coftly Sweetnefs of Arabian Dews,
Nor Braids of Gold the vary'd Treffes bind,
That fly diforder'd with the wanton Wind:
For whom shou'd Sapho use such Arts as these?
He's gone, whom only fhe defir'd to please!
Cupid's light Darts my tender Bofom move,
Still is there Caufe for Sapho 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 Muse in melting Notes complains,
My Heart relents, and answers to my Strains.
By Charms like thine which all my Soul have won,
Who might not-ah! who wou'd not be undone?
For thofe, Aurora Cephalus might scorn,

And with fresh Blushes paint the conscious Morn.
For thofe 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 fcarce a tender Boy!
O ufeful 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 thou wilt not give.
See, while I write, my Words are loft in Tears;
The lefs my Senfe, the more my Love appears.

Sure

Sure 'twas not much to bid one kind Adieu,
(At least to feign was never hard to you)
Farewel my Lesbian Love! you might have said,
Or coldly thus, Farewel ob Lesbian Maid!
No Tear did you, no parting Kifs receive,
Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve.
No Gift on thee thy Sapho cou'd confer,

And Wrongs and Woes were all you left with her.
No Charge I gave you, and no Charge cou'd give,
But this; Be mindful of our Loves, and live.
Now by the Nine, thofe Pow'rs ador'd by me,
And Love, the God that ever waits on thee,
When first I heard (from whom I hardly knew)
That you were fled, and all my Joys with you,
Like fome fad Statue, fpeechlefs, pale, I ftood;
Grief chill'd my Breaft, and stop'd my freezing Blood;
No Sigh to rife, no Tear had Pow'r to flow;
Fix'd in a stupid Lethargy of Woe.

But when its way th' impetuous Paffion found,
I rend my Treffes, and my Breafts I wound,
Irave, then weep, I curfe, and then complain,
Now fwell to Rage, now melt in Tears again.
Not fiercer Pangs diftract the mournful Dame,
Whofe first-born Infant feeds the Fun'ral Flame.
My fcornful Brother with a Smile appears,
Infults my Woes, and triumphs in my Tears,
His hated Image ever haunts my Eyes,
And why this Grief! thy Daughter lives; he cries.
Stung with thy Love, and furious with Defpair,
All torn my Garments, and my Bofom bare,

My Woes, thy Crimes, I to the World proclaim;
Such inconfiftent Things are Love and Shame!
'Tis thou art all my Care, and my Delight,
My daily Longing, and my Dream by Night:
O Night more pleasing than the brightest Day,
When Fancy gives what Absence takes away,
And dreft in all its vifionary Charms,
Reftores my fair Deferter to my Arms!

Then round your Neck in wanton Wreaths I twine,
Then you, methinks, as fondly circle mine :-
A thousand tender Words I hear and speak;
A thousand melting Kiffes, give, and take:
Then fiercer Joys-I blush to mention thefe,
Yet while I blush confefs how much they please!
But when with Day the fweet Delusions fly,
And all things wake to Life and Joy, but I,
As if once more forfaken, I complain,
And clofe my Eyes, to dream of you again.
Then frantick rife, and like fome Fury rove
Thro' lonely Plains, and thro' the filent Grove,
As if the filent Grove, and lonely Plains,
That knew my Pleasures, ccu'd relieve my Pains.
I view the Grotto, once the Scene of Love,
The Rocks around, the hanging Roofs above,
Which charm'd me more, with Native Mofs o'ergrown,
Than Phrygian Marble or the Parian Stone.

I find the Shades that did our Joys conceal,

Not Him, who made me love thofe Shades fo well!
Here the preft Herbs with bending Tops betray
Where oft entwin'd in am'rous Folds we lay;

I kifs that Earth which once was prest by you,
And all with Tears the with'ring Herbs bedew.
For thee the fading Trees appear to mourn,
And Birds defer their Songs 'till thy Return:
Night fhades the Groves, and all in Silence lye,
All, but the mournful Philomel and I,
With mournful Philomel I join my Strain,
Of Tereus fhe, of Phaon I complain.

A Spring there is, whofe Silver Waters fhow,
Clear as a Glafs, the fhining Sands below;
A flow'ry Lotos fpreads its Arms above,

Shades all the Banks, and feems it felf a Grove;
Eternal Greens the moffy Margin grace,
Watch'd by the Sylvan Genius of the Place..
Here as I lay, and fwell'd with Tears the Flood,
Before my Sight a Watry Virgin stood.

She flood, and cry'd, "O you that love in vain!
"Fly hence; and feek the far 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, "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, "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 Voice1 rife, And filent Tears fall trickling from my Eyes,