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OnPA
Lb ^fc
{( .niij 14 1953
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SAPPHOthe cross the age of Athenian culture,culmir>ating in the white flower of theAcropolis.Had she travelled she might have visitedNineveh before its destruction by Cyaxares,or watched the Phoenicians set sail ontheir African voyage at the command ofNechos. She might have spoken withDraco and Jeremiah the Prophet andthe father of Gautama the founder ofBuddhism. For her the Historical Past,which is the background of all thought,held little . but echoes, voices, and theforms of gods, and the immediate presentlittle but Lesbos and the ^gean Sea,whose waters had been broken by thefirst trireme only a hundred and fifty yearsbefore her birth.
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SAPPHOII
Men call her the greatest lyric poetthat the world has known, basing theirjudgment on the few perfect fragmentsthat remain of her song. But her voiceis more than the voice of a lyric poet, it isthe voice of a world that has been, of afreshness and beauty that will never beagain, and to give that voice a last touchof charm remains the fact that it comes tous as an echo.
For of Sappho's poetry not a singlevestige remains that does not come to usreflected in the form of a quotation fromthe works of some admirer, some onecaptured by her beauty or her wisdom orthe splendour of her verse, or some one,like Herodian or
Apolloniusthe sophist
of Alexandria, who takes it to exhibit theaeolic use of words or accentuation, or
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SAPPtiOwhat did the daughter of Cyprus say toher in a dream ?
There is not a fragment of Sappho thatis not surrounded in the mind of the readerby the rainbow of suggestion. Just as thegods draped the human form to give desireimagination, so, perhaps, some god and nofate has all but hidden the mind of Sappho.
Ill
Looking at it in another way one mightfancy that all the demons of malignity anddestruction had conspired to destroy andtraduce : to destroy the works and traducethe character of the poet.The game of defamation was begun in
Athens in the age of corruption by lepers,and carried on through the succeedingages by their kind, till Welcker came with
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SAPPHOhis torch and showed these gibberingghosts standing on nothing and withnothing in their hands.
Colonel Mure tried to put Welcker'storch out, and only burned his fingers.Comparetti snuffed it, only to make itburn the brighter. But bright or dim, thetorch was only intended to show the lepers.Sappho shines by her own light in theminutest fragments of her that remainFragments whose deathless energy, likethe energy of radium, has vivified literaturein all ages and times.
IVThe mind of Sappho runs through all
literature like a spangled thread.
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THE HYMN TO APHRODITE ANDFIFTY-TWO FRAGMENTS, TO-GETHER WITH SAPPHO TO
PHAON, OVID'S HEROICEPISTLE XV
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FOREWORDSome flower unfold in some for-
saken spot,Hill hyacinth, or blue forget-me-
not.
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CONTENTSXXVI.
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I
HYMN TO APHRODITEDaughter of Zeus and Immortal,Aphrodite, sereneWeaver of spells, at thy portalHear me and slay not, O Queen As in the past, hither to meFrom thy far palace of gold.Drawn by the doves that o'erflew
me.Come, as thou camest of old.Swiftly thy flock bore thee hither.Smiling, as turned I to thee.Spoke thou across the blue weather," Sappho, why callest thou me ? "
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11ODE TO ANACTORIA
That man, whoever he may be.Who sits awhile to gaze on thee,Hearing thy lovely laugh, thy
speech,Throned with the gods he seems to
me;For when a moment to mine eyesThy form discloses, silentlyI stand consumed with fires that riseLike flames around a sacrifice.Sight have I none, bells out of tuneRing in mine ears, my tongue liesdumb ;Paler than grass in later June,Yet daring all
(To thee I come).23
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lit
WEDDING SONGWorkmen lift highThe beams of the roof,Hymenaeus
Like Ares from skyComes the groom to the bride,Hymenaeus
Than men who must dieStands he taller in pride,Hymenaeus
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XEVENING
Children astray to their mothers,and goats to the herd,Sheep to the shepherd, through
twilight the wings of the bird,All things that morning has scat-
tered with fingers of gold,All things thou bringest, O Even-
ing at last to the fold.
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XIMAIDENHOOD
Maidenhood Maidenhood wherehast thou gone from me.
Whither, O Slain I shall return to thee, I who have
gone from thee, never again.
XIIMOONLIGHT
The stars around the fair moon fadeAgainst the night.When gazing full she fills the gladeAnd spreads the seas with silvery
light.30
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XIIIORCHARD SONG
Cool murmur of water throughapple-wood
Troughs without numberThe whole orchard fills, whilst the
leavesLend their music to slumber.
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XIVDICA
With flowers fair adorn thy lustroushair,
Dica, amidst thy locks sweet blos-soms twine.
With thy soft hands, for so amaiden stands
Accepted of the gods, whose eyesdivine
Are turned away from herthoughfair as May
She waits, but round whose locksno flowers shine.
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XVGRACE
What country maiden charms thyheart.However fair, however sweet.Who has not learned by gracious
ArtTo draw her dress around her feet ?XVI
AS ON THE HILLSAs on the hills the shepherds
trample the hyacinth down,Staining the earth with darkness,
there where a flower hasblown,
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XIXGOODNESS
He who is fair is good to lookupon ;He who is good is fair, thoughyouth be gone.
XXTHE FISHERMAN'S TOMBOver the fisher Pelagon Meniscus
his father setThe oar worn by the wave, the
trap, and the fishing net ;For all men, and for ever, memor-
ials there to beOf the luckless life of the fisher,
the labourer of the sea.2S
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XXIIDEAD SHALT THOU LIE
Dead shalt thou lie for ever, andforgotten,
For whom the flowers of song havenever bloomed ;A wanderer amidst the unbegotten.In Hades' house a shadow ayentombed.
XXIIIDEATH
Death is an evil, for the godschoose breath ;
Had Death been good the godshad chosen Death.
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XXVTHE ALTARThen the full globed moon arose,
and thereThe women stood as round an
altar fair.
XXVITHE ALTAR
And thus at times, in Crete, thewomen there
Circle in dance around the altarfair ;
In measured movement, treadingas they pass
W^ith tender feet the soft bloomof the grass.
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XXXIITHE MOON HAS SET
The moon has set beyond the seas,And vanished are the Pleiades ;Half the long weary night has gone,Time passesyet I lie alone.
XXXIIITHE SKY
I THINK not with these twoWhite arms to touch the blue.
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XXXVIIIADONIS
Ah for Adonis (Where the willows sighThe call still comesThrough spring's
sweet mystery.)
XXXIXLEDA
They say, 'neath leaf and blossomLeda found in the gloomAn egg, white as her bosom,Under an iris bloom.
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XLTHE CAPTIVE
Now Love has bound me, trembling,hands and feet,O Love so fatal. Love so bitter-sweet.
XLIINVOCATION
Come to me, O ye graces.Delicate, tender, fair ;Come from your heavenly places,Muses with golden hair.
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XLVON THE TOMB OF A PRIESTESS
OF ARTEMISVoiceless I speak, and from the
tomb replyUnto ^thopia, Leto's child, was IVowed by the daughter of Hermo-
cleides,Who was the son of Saonaiades.O virgin queen, unto my prayerincline.Bless him and cast thy blessing
on our line.
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XLVITO A BRIDE
Bride, around whom the rosy lovesare flying.
Sweet image of the Cyprian un-dying,
The bed awaits thee ; go, and withhim lying,
Give to the groom thy sweetness,softly sighing.
May Hesperus in gladness passbefore thee.
And Hera of the silver throne bendo'er thee.
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XLVIIlADONIS
Tender Adonis stricken is lying,What, Cytherea, now can we do ?Beat your breasts, maidens, Adonis
is dying.Rending your garments (the white
fragments strew).
XLIXSLEEP
With eyes of darkness.The sleep of night.
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LTHY FORM IS LOVELY
Thy form is lovely and thine eyesare honeyed.
O'er thy face the paleClear light of love lies like a veil.Bidding thee rise,With outstretched hands.Before thee Aphrodite stands.
LITHE BRIDEGROOM
Joy born of marriage thou provest,Bridegroom thrice blest.Holding the maiden thou lovestClasped to thy breast.
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LiiREGRET
Those unto whom I have given.These have my heart most riven.
LIII
FRAGMENTUpon thy girl friend's white and
tender breast,Sleep thou, and on her bosom find
thy rest.
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SAPPHO TO PHAONThe blue sea in its solitude lies fair,But, desolate, I turn from it in pain.No more the girls of Lesbos move
my heart,My blameless love for them is now
no more.Before my love for thee all loves
depart.Cold wanderer thou upon a distant
shore.
O thou art lovely wert thou garbedlike him,
Apollo by thy side a shade would be.Garland thy tresses with the ivy dimAnd Bacchus would be less himself,
by thee.58
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SAPPHO TO PHAONApollo, yet, who bent, as Bacchus
fell,One to the Cretan, one to Daphne's
fire.Beside me, what are they ? I cast
my spellO'er seas and lands, the music of
my lyreEchoes across the world where
mortals dwell,Renders the earth in tune with
my desire.Alcsus strikes Olympus with his
song.Boldly and wild his music finds its
star.59
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SAPPHO TO PHAONUnto the human does my voice
belongAnd Aphrodite smiles on me fromfar.
Have I no charms ? has genius losther touch
To turn simplicity to beauty'szone ?
Am I so small, whose toweringheight is such
That in the world of men I standalone?
Yea, I am brownan Ethiopian'sfaceTurned Perseus from his path, aflame of fire.
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SAPPHO TO PHAONWhite doves or dark, which hath
the finer grace ?Are they not equal, netted by-
desire ?
If by no charm except thine ownsweet charmThou can'st be moved, ah then,alas, for me
Fires of the earth thy coldness willnot warm.And Phaon's self must Phaon'slover be.
Yet once, ah once forgetful of theworld,
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SAPPHO TO PHAONAnd yet again, delirious as we
faced,And yet again, till in exhaustion,
evenLove's self half died and nothing
more remained,But earth and life half lost, and
heaven gained.
And now, Sicilian girlsO heartof mine.
Why was I born so far fromSicily ?
Sicilian girls, unto my words incline.Beware of smiles, of insincerity,Beware the words that once belonged
to me,63
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SAPPHO TO PHAONThe fruits of passion and the seeds
of grief ;O Cyprian by the fair Sicilian sea,Sappho now calls thee, turn to
her relief
Shall Fortune still pursue me, luck-less one,
With hounds of woe pursue medown the years ?
Sorrow was mine since first I sawthe sun.
The ashes of my parents knew mytears.
My brother cast the gifts of life awayFor one unworthy of all gifts butgold,
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SAPPHO TO PHAONGrief follows griefand on this woe-
ful dayAn infant daughter in my armsI hold.
Fates What more can ye do,what more essay ?
Phaon ah yes, he is the last, Iknow.The first, the all, the grave that
once was gay,The dark veil o'er my purple robe
ye throw.My curls no more are curls, nor
scent the airWith perfume from the flowers
' Egyptians grow,E . 65
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SAPPHO TO PHAONThe gold that bound these locks of
mine so fairHas parted for the wind these locks
to blow.All arts of love were mine when he
was by,Whose sun is now the sun ofSicily.
Phaon when I was born, themystic three
Called Aphrodite on my birth togaze,And then the Cyprian, turning,called on thee
To be my fate and fill my dreamsand days.
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SAPPHO TO PHAONThou for whose sake Aurora's eyes
might turnFrom Cephalus, or Cynthia give
thee sleep,Pouring obUvion from night's marble
urn,Bidding Endymion to watch thy
sheep
Lo as I write I weep, andnought appearsBut Love, half veiled by brokenwords and tears.
You you who left me withoutkiss or tear
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SAPPHO TO PHAONOr word, to murmur softly like a
childBegotten of thy voice, deception
wereLess cruel far than silence, you
who smiledFalsely so often, had you no false
phraseYou who so often had false talesto tell
No voice there, at the parting ofour ways.To say " Farewell, O Love " orjust " Farewell
"
I had no gift to give you when youpassed,
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SAPPHO TO PHAONAnd wrongs were all the gifts
received from thee,I had no words to tell you at the
lastBut these : " Forgo not life, forget
not me."And when I heard, told by some
casual tongue,That thou wert gone. Grief turnedme then to stone.Voiceless I stood as though I ne'er
had sung.Pulselessand lost, for ever more alone.Without a sigh, without a tear to
shed,Grief held me. Grief who has no
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SAPPHO TO PHAONThen, rising as one rises from the
dead.My soul broke forth as one breaks
forth to slay.Rending and wounding all this
frame of mine.Cursing the Gods, the moments
and the years,Now like the clouds of storm,where lightnings shine.
Uplifted,then
resolvinginto tears.
Debased, when turns my brother inhis scorn
My grief to laughter, pointing tomy child ;Till madness takes me as the firethe corn
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SAPPHO TO PHAONAnd, in reviling thee, I stand
reviled.Ah but at night.
At night I turn to thee.In dreams our limbs are joined, as
flame with flame,In dreams again your arms are
girdling me,I taste your soul in joys I blush to
name.
Ah but the day that follows onthe night.The emptiness that drives me tothe plainTo seek those spots that knew mylost delight,
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SAPPHO TO PHAONThe grotto that shall shield us not
again.
Here lies the grass we pressed indeeds of love.
Lips, limbs entwinedI kiss theground to-day.
The herbs lie withered, and thebirds that move
Are songless, and the very trees aregrey.Night takes the day and falls uponthe groves.
The nightingale alone is left to cry.Lamenting, in the song that sorrow
loves.To Tereus she calls, to Phaon, L
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SAPPHO TO PHAONII
There is a spring, through whosecool water showsThe sand like silver, clear as seenthrough air.
There is a spring, above whosemirror growsA lotus like a grove in flower fair.
Here, as I lay in tears, a spiritstood
Born of the water, then she calledto me,
Sappho, pursuing Love, by Griefpursued,
Sappho, beside the blue Leucadiansea
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SAPPHO TO PHAONThere stands a rock, and there
above the caves.Whose wandering echoes reach
Apollo's fane,Dow^n leaping to the blue and
breaking waves,Lovers find sleep, nor dream of
love again.Deucalion here found ease from
Pyrrah's scorn,Sappho arise, and where the sharp
cliffs fall.Thy body, that had better not been
born.Cast to the waves, the blue, blue
waves that call.I rise, and weeping silently, I go.
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SAPPHO TO PHAONMy fear is great, my love is greater
still.
Better oblivion than the love Iknow.
Kinder than Phaon's is the bluewave's will.
Ye favouring breezes, guard me onthis day,
Love, lend your pinions, waft meo'er the sea
Where, lovely Phoebus, on thyshrine I'll lay
My lyre, with this inscription untothee :
" Sappho to Phoebus consecrates herlyre,
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SAPPHO TO PHAONUnto the God the gift, the fire to
fire."
IllAlas and woe is me.
But must I go ?O Phaon, Phoebus' self to me is lessThan Phaonwill you cast medown belowAll broken, for the cruel rocks to
pressThis breast, that loved thee, ruined ?Ah the songBorn of the Muses leaves me and
the lyreIs voicelessthey no more to me
belong,76
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SAPPHO TO PHAONAnd in this darkness dies the
heavenly fire.
Farewell, ye girls of Lesbos, fare yewell ;No more the groves shall answer tomy song.
No more these hands shall wakethe lyre to tellOf Love, of Lifeto Phaon theybelong,And he has fled.
O Loveliness, return,Make once again my soul to singin joy.
Feed once again this heart withfires that burn,
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SAPPHO TO PHAONGods can no prayers avail but to
destroy,
No songs bring back the lost, nosighs recall
The lost that was my love, my life,my all ?
Return Return Raise to the wind thy sail,Across the sea bring back to me
the years,Eros shall lend to thee the favour-
ing gale.The track is sure where Aphroditesteers.
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SAPPHO TO PHAONLet thy white sail be lifted on the
rimOf sky that marks the dark dividing
seas.Failing that far-off sail, remain
the dimBlue depths where once Deucalion
found release.Failing that far-off sail, the waves
shall giveDeath, or Forgetlulness, whilst still
I live.
THE END
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