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The Poems of Sappho

An Interpretative Rendition into English

BY

JOHN MYERS O'HARA

PORTLAND: MDCCCCX



[Illustration: SAPPHO AND HER COMPANIONS]



_Who shall strike the wax of mystery from those priceless
amphoræ, and give to the unsophisticated nostrils of the average
reader the ravishing bouquet of wine pressed in a garden in
Mitylene, twenty-five centuries ago?_--MAURICE THOMPSON.

     _Then to me so lying awake a vision_
     _Came without sleep over the seas and touched me,_
     _Softly touched mine eyelids and lips; and I, too,_
                    _Full of the vision,_

     _Saw the white implacable Aphrodite,_
     _Saw the hair unbound and the feet unsandalled_
     _Shine as fire of sunset on western waters;_
                    _Saw the reluctant_

     _Feet, the straining plumes of the doves that drew her,_
     _Looking always, looking with necks reverted_
     _Back to Lesbos, back to the hills whereunder_
                    _Shone Mitylene._

                                                --SWINBURNE.

     Ω θεόί, πίς ἆρα Κύπρις, ἢ τίς μερος
     τοῡδε ξνυήψατο

                             --SOPHOCLES.





SAPPHICS


                  THE MUSES

     Hither now, O Muses, leaving the golden
     House of God unseen in the azure spaces,
     Come and breathe on bosom and brow and kindle
               Song like the sunglow;

     Come and lift my shaken soul to the sacred
     Shadow cast by Helicon's rustling forests;
     Sweep on wings of flame from the middle ether,
               Seize and uplift me;

     Thrill my heart that throbs with unwonted fervor,
     Chasten mouth and throat with immortal kisses,
     Till I yield on maddening heights the very
               Breath of my body.


                   MUSAGETES

     Come with Musagetes, ye Hours and Graces,
     Dance around the team of swans that attend him
     Up Parnassian heights, to his holy temple
                  High on the hill-top;

     Come, ye Muses, too, from the shades of Pindus,
     Let your songs, that echo on winds of rapture,
     Wake the lyre he tunes to the sweet inspiring
                  Sound of your voices.


                  LOVE'S BANQUET

     If Panormus, Cyprus or Paphos hold thee,
     Either home of Gods or the island temple,
     Hark again and come at my invocation,
                  Goddess benefic;

     Come thou, foam-born Kypris, and pour in dainty
     Cups of amber gold thy delicate nectar,
     Subtly mixed with fire that will swiftly kindle
                  Love in our bosoms;

     Thus the bowl ambrosial was stirred in Paphos
     For the feast, and taking the burnished ladle,
     Hermes poured the wine for the Gods who lifted
                  Reverent beakers;

     High they held their goblets and made libation,
     Spilling wine as pledge to the Fates and Hades
     Quaffing deep and binding their hearts to Eros,
                  Lauding thy servant.

     So to me and my Lesbians round me gathered,
     Each made mine, an amphor of love long tasted,
     Bid us drink, who sigh for thy thrill ecstatic,
                  Passion's full goblet;

     Grant me this, O Kypris, and on thy altar
     Dawn will see a goat of the breed of Naxos,
     Snowy doves from Cos and the drip of rarest
                  Lesbian vintage;

     For a regal taste is mine and the glowing
     Zenith-lure and beauty of suns must brighten
     Love for me, that ever upon perfection
                  Trembles elusive.


                   MOON AND STARS

     When the moon at full on the sill of heaven
     Lights her beacon, flooding the earth with silver,
     All the shining stars that about her cluster
                  Hide their fair faces;

     So when Anactoria's beauty dazzles
     Sight of mine, grown dim with the joy it gives me,
     Gorgo, Atthis, Gyrinno, all the others
                  Fade from my vision.


                  ODE TO ANACTORIA

     Peer of Gods to me is the man thy presence
     Crowns with joy; who hears, as he sits beside thee,
     Accents sweet of thy lips the silence breaking,
                With lovely laughter;

     Tones that make the heart in my bosom flutter,
     For if I, the space of a moment even,
     Near to thee come, any word I would utter
                Instantly fails me;

     Vain my stricken tongue would a whisper fashion,
     Subtly under my skin runs fire ecstatic;
     Straightway mists surge dim to my eyes and leave them
                Reft of their vision;

     Echoes ring in my ears; a trembling seizes
     All my body bathed in soft perspiration;
     Pale as grass I grow in my passion's madness,
                Like one insensate;

     But must I dare all, since to me unworthy,
     Bliss thy beauty brings that a God might envy;
     Never yet was fervid woman a fairer
                Image of Kypris.

     Ah! undying Daughter of God, befriend me!
     Calm my blood that thrills with impending transport;
     Feed my lips the murmur of words to stir her
                Bosom to pity;

     Overcome with kisses her faintest protest,
     Melt her mood to mine with amorous touches,
     Till her low assent and her sigh's abandon
                Lure me to rapture.


                     THE ROSE

     If it pleased the whim of Zeus in an idle
     Hour to choose a king for the flowers, he surely
     Would have crowned the rose for its regal beauty,
                Deeming it peerless;

     By its grace is valley and hill embellished,
     Earth is made a shrine for the lover's ardor;
     Dear it is to flowers as the charm of lovely
                Eyes are to mortals;

     Joy and pride of plants, and the garden's glory,
     Beauty's blush it brings to the cheek of meadows;
     Draining fire and dew from the dawn for rarest
                Color and odor;

     Softly breathed, its scent is a plea for passion,
     When it blooms to welcome the kiss of Kypris;
     Sheathed in fragrant leaves its tremulous petals
                Laugh in the zephyr.



                  ODE TO APHRODITE

     Aphrodite, subtle of soul and deathless,
     Daughter of God, weaver of wiles, I pray thee
     Neither with care, dread Mistress, nor with anguish,
                 Slay thou my spirit!

     But in pity hasten, come now if ever
     From afar of old when my voice implored thee,
     Thou hast deigned to listen, leaving the golden
                 House of thy father

     With thy chariot yoked; and with doves that drew thee,
     Fair and fleet around the dark earth from heaven,
     Dipping vibrant wings down the azure distance,
                 Through the mid-ether;

     Very swift they came; and thou, gracious Vision,
     Leaned with face that smiled in immortal beauty,
     Leaned to me and asked, "What misfortune threatened?
                 Why I had called thee?"

     "What my frenzied heart craved in utter yearning,
     Whom its wild desire would persuade to passion?
     What disdainful charms, madly worshipped, slight thee?
                 Who wrongs thee, Sappho?"

     "She that fain would fly, she shall quickly follow,
     She that now rejects, yet with gifts shall woo thee,
     She that heeds thee not, soon shall love to madness,
                 Love thee, the loth one!"

     Come to me now thus, Goddess, and release me
     From distress and pain; and all my distracted
     Heart would seek, do thou, once again fulfilling,
                 Still be my ally!


                       SUMMER

     Slumber streams from quivering leaves that listless
     Bask in heat and stillness of Lesbian summer;
     Breathless swoons the air with the apple-blossoms'
                   Delicate odor;

     From the shade of branches that droop and cover
     Shallow trenches winding about the orchard,
     Restful comes, and cool to the sense, the flowing
                   Murmur of water.


               THE GARDEN OF THE NYMPHS

     All around through the apple boughs in blossom
     Murmur cool the breezes of early summer,
     And from leaves that quiver above me gently
                Slumber is shaken;

     Glades of poppies swoon in the drowsy languor,
     Dreaming roses bend, and the oleanders
     Bask and nod to drone of bees in the silent
                Fervor of noontide;

     Myrtle coverts hedging the open vista,
     Dear to nightly frolic of Nymph and Satyr,
     Yield a mossy bed for the brown and weary
                Limbs of the shepherd.

     Echo ever wafts through the drooping frondage,
     Ceaseless silver murmur of water falling
     In the grotto cool of the Nymphs, the sacred
                Haunt of Immortals;

     Down the sides of rocks that are gray and lichened
     Trickle tiny rills, whose expectant tinkle
     Drips with gurgle hushed in the clear glimmering
                Depths of the basin.

     Fair on royal couches of leaves recumbent,
     Interspersed with languor of waxen lilies,
     Lotus flowers empurple the pool whose edge is
                Cushioned with mosses;

     Here recline the Nymphs at the hour of twilight,
     Back in shadows dim of the cave, their golden
     Sea-green eyes half lidded, up to their supple
                Waists in the water.

     Sheltered once by ferns I espied them binding
     Tresses long, the tint of lilac and orange;
     Just beyond the shimmer of light their bodies
                Roseate glistened;

     Deftly, then, they girdled their loins with garlands,
     Linked with leaves luxuriant limb and shoulder;
     On their breasts they bruised the red blood of roses
                Fresh from the garden.

     She of orange hair was the Nymph Euxanthis,
     And the lilac-tressed were Iphis and Io;
     How they laughed, relating at length their ease in
                Evading the Satyr.


                 APHRODITE'S DOVES

     When the drifting gray of the vesper shadow
     Dimmed their upward path through the midmost azure,
     And the length of night overtook them distant
                   Far from Olympus;

     Far away from splendor and joy of Paphos,
     From the voice and smile of their peerless Mistress,
     Back to whom their truant wings were in rapture
                   Speeding belated;

     Chilled at heart and grieving they drooped their pinions,
     Circled slowly, dipping in flight toward Lesbos,
     Down through dusk that darkened on Mitylene's
                   Columns of marble;

     Down through glory wan of the fading sunset,
     Veering ever toward the abode of Sappho,
     Toward my home, the fane of the glad devoted
                   Slave of the Goddess;

     Soon they gained the tile of my roof and rested,
     Slipped their heads beneath their wings while I watched them
     Sink to sleep and dreams, in the warm and drowsy
                   Night of midsummer.


                   ANACREON'S SONG

     Golden-throned Muse, sing the song that in olden
     Days was sung of love and delight in Teos,
     In the goodly land of the lovely women:
                   Strains that in other

     Years the hoary bard with the youthful fancy
     Set to mirthful stir of flutes, when the dancing
     Nymphs that poured the wine for the poet's banquet
                   Mixed it with kisses;

     Sing the song while I, in the arms of Atthis,
     Seal her lips to mine with a lover's fervor,
     Breathe her breath and drink her sighs to the honeyed
                   Lull of the melics.


                THE DAUGHTER OF CYPRUS

     Dreaming I spake with the Daughter of Cyprus,
     Heard the languor soft of her voice, the blended
     Suave accord of tones interfused with laughter
                   Low and desireful;

     Dreaming saw her dread ineffable beauty,
     Saw through texture fine of her clinging tunic
     Blush the fire of flesh, the rose of her body,
                   Radiant, blinding;

     Saw through filmy meshes the melting lovely
     Flow of line, the exquisite curves, whence piercing
     Rapture reached with tangible touch to thrill me,
                   Almost to slay me;

     Saw the gleaming foot, and the golden sandal
     Held by straps of Lydian work thrice doubled
     Over the instep's arch, and up the rounded
                   Dazzling ankle;

     Saw the charms that shimmered from knee to shoulder,
     Hint of hues, than milk or the snowdrift whiter;
     Secret grace, the shrine of the soul of passion,
                   Glows that consumed me;

     Saw the gathered mass of her xanthic tresses,
     Mitra-bound, escape from the clasping fillet,
     Float and shine as clouds in the sunset splendor,
                   Mists in the dawn-fire;

     Saw the face immortal, and daring greatly,
     Raised my eyes to hers of unfathomed azure,
     Drank their world's desire, their limitless longing,
                   Swooned and was nothing.


                    THE DISTAFF

     Come, ye dainty Graces and lovely Muses,
     Rosy-armed and pure and with fairest tresses,
     Come from groves on Helicon's hill where murmur
                 Founts that are holy;

     Come with dancing step and with lips harmonic,
     Gather near and view my ivory distaff,
     Gift from Cos my brother Charaxus brought me,
                 Sailing from Egypt;

     Sailing back to Lesbos from far Naucratis,
     From the seven mouths of the Nile and Egypt
     Up the blue Ægean, the island-dotted
                 Ocean of Hellas;

     Choicest wool alone will I spin for fabrics,
     Winding reel with threads for the cloths as fleecy,
     Soft and fine as they bring from far Phocea,
                 Sidon or Sardis;

     While I weave my thought shall engird the giver,
     Whether here, or far on the sea, or resting
     Couched in shady courts with the lovely garland
                 Girls of Naucratis.


                  THE SLEEP WIND

     Softer than mists o'er the pale green of waters,
     O'er the charmed sea, shod with sandals of shadow
     Comes the warm sleep wind of Argolis, floating
                 Garlands of fragrance;

     Comes the sweet wind by the still hours attended,
     Touching tired lids on the shores dim with distance,
     Ever its way toward the headland of Lesbos,
                 Toward Mitylene.

     Faintly one fair star of evening enkindles
     On the dusk afar its lone fire Œtean,
     Shining serene till the darkness will deepen
                 Others to splendor;

     Bringing ineffable peace, and the gladsome
     Return with the night of all things that morning
     Ruthlessly parted, the child to its mother,
                 Lover to lover.

     From the marble court of rose-crowned companions,
     All alone my feet again seek the little
     Theatre pledged to the Muse, now deserted,
                 Facing the surges;

     Where the carved Pan-heads that laugh down the gentle
     Slope of broad steps to the refluent ripple,
     Flute from their thin pipes the dithyrambs deathless,
                 Songs all unuttered.

     Empty each seat where my girl friends acclaimed me,
     Poets with names on the tiered stone engraven,
     Over whose verge blooms the apple tree, drifting
                 Perfume and petals;

     Gone Telesippa and tender Gyrinno,
     Anactoria, woman divine; Atthis,
     Subtlest of soul, fair Damophyla, Dica,
                 Maids of the Muses.

     Here an hour past soul-enravished they listened
     While my rapt heart breathed its pæan impassioned,
     Chanted its wild prayer to thee, Aphrodite,
                 Daughter of Cyprus;

     Now to their homes are they gone in the city,
     Pensive to dream limb-relaxed while the languid
     Slaves come and lift from the tresses they loosen,
                 Flowers that have faded.

     Thou alone, Sappho, art sole with the silence,
     Sole with night and dreams that are darkness, weaving
     Thoughts that are sighs from the heart and their meaning
                 Vague as the shadow;

     When the great silence shall come to thee, sad one,
     Men that forget shall remember thy music,
     Murmur thy name that shall steal on their passion
                 Soft as the sleep wind.


                    THE REPROACH

     Kypris, hear my prayer to thee and the Nereids!
     Safely bring the ship of my brother homewards,
     Bring him back unharmed to the heart that loves him,
                   Throbbing remorseful;

     Fair Immortal, banish from mind, I pray thee,
     Every discord's hint that of yore estranged us;
     Grant that never again dissension's hateful
                   Wrangle shall part us;

     May he never in days to come remember
     Keen reproach of mine that had grieved him sorely;
     Words that broke my very heart when I heard them
                   Uttered by others;

     Words that wounded deep and recurring often,
     Bowed his head with shame at the public banquet;
     Where my scorn, amid festal joy and laughter,
                   Sharpened the covert

     Jests that stung his pride and assailed his folly,
     Slave-espoused when he, a Lesbian noble,
     Might have won the fairest in Mitylene,
                   Virgins the noblest;

     Open slurs that linked his name with Doricha,
     Lovely slave that Xanthes had sold in Egypt;
     She whose wondrous charms the wealth of Charaxus
                   Ransomed from bondage.

     Now that he is gone and my anger vanished,
     Keen regret and grief for the pain I gave him
     Pierce my heart, and fear of loss that is anguish
                   Darkens the daylight.


                  LONG AGO

     Long ago beloved, thy memory, Atthis,
     Saddens still my heart as the soft Æolic
     Twilight deepens down on the sea, and fitful
               Winds that have wandered

     Over groves of myrtle at Amathonte
     Waft forgotten passion on breaths of perfume.
     Long ago, how madly I loved thee, Atthis!
               Faithless, light-hearted

     Loved one, mine no more, who lovest another
     More than me; the silent flute and the faded
     Garlands haunt the heart of me thou forgettest,
               Long since thy lover.




EPITHALAMIA

THRENODES



                HYMENAIOS

     Artisans, raise high the roof beam!
     Tall is the bridegroom as Ares,
     Taller by far than the tallest,
                O Hymenæus!

     Ay! towering over his fellows,
     As over men of all other
     Lands towers the Lesbian singer,
                O Hymenæus!

     Well-favored, too, is the maiden,
     Eyes that are sweeter than honey,
     Fair both in face and in figure,
                O Hymenæus!

     For there was never another
     Virgin in loveliness like her,
     By Aphrodite so honored,
                O Hymenæus!

     O happy bridegroom, the wedding
     Comes to the point of completion;
     Thou hast the maid of thy choosing,
                O Hymenæus!

     See how a paleness suffuses
     Soft o'er her exquisite features,
     Passion's benign premonition,
                O Hymenæus!

     Go to the couch unreluctant,
     Rejoicing and sweet to the bridegroom;
     He in his turn is rejoicing,
                O Hymenæus!

     May Hesperus lead thee, and Hera,
     She whom to-night that ye honor,
     Silver-throned Goddess of marriage,
                O Hymenæus!


               BRIDAL SONG

     Bride, that goest to the bridal chamber
     In the dove-drawn car of Aphrodite,
           By a band of dimpled
             Loves surrounded;

     Bride, of maidens all the fairest image
     Mitylene treasures of the Goddess,
           Rosy-ankled Graces
             Are thy playmates;

     Bride, O fair and lovely, thy companions
     Are the gracious hours that onward passing
           For thy gladsome footsteps
             Scatter garlands.

     Bride, that blushing like the sweetest apple
     On the very branch's end, so strangely
           Overlooked, ungathered
             By the gleaners;

     Bride, that like the apple that was never
     Overlooked but out of reach so plainly,
           Only one thy rarest
             Fruit may gather;

     Bride, that into womanhood has ripened
     For the harvest of the bridegroom only,
           He alone shall taste thy
             Hoarded sweetness.


            EPITHALAMIUM

     Vesper is here! behold
       Faint gleams that welcome shine!
     Rise from the feast, O youths,
       And chant the fescennine!

     Before the porch we sing
       The hymeneal song;
     Vesper is here, O youths!
       The star we waited long.

     We lead the festal groups
       Across the bridegroom's porch;
     Vesper is here, O youths!
       Wave high the bridal torch.

     Hail, noble bridegroom, hail!
       The virgin fair has come;
     Unlatch the door and lead
       Her timid footsteps home.

     Hail, noble bridegroom, hail!
       Straight as a tender tree;
     Fond as a folding vine
       Thy bride will cling to thee.


                 PIERIA'S ROSE

     Pale death shall come, and thou and thine shall be,
     Then and thereafter, to all memory
     Forgotten as the wind that yesterday
     Blew the last lingering apple buds away;

     For thou hadst never that undying rose
     To grace the brow and shed immortal glows;
     Pieria's fadeless flower that few may claim
     To wreathe and save thy unremembered name.

     Ay! even on the fields of Dis unknown,
     Obscure among the shadows and alone,
     Thy flitting shade shall pass uncomforted
     Of any heed from all the flitting dead.

     But no one maid, I think, beneath the skies,
     At any time shall live and be as wise,
     In sooth, as I am; for the Muses Nine
     Have made me honored and their gifts are mine;

     And men, I think, will never quite forget
     My songs or me; so long as stars shall set
     Or sun shall rise, or hearts feel love's desire,
     My voice shall cross their dreams, a sigh of fire.


     LAMENT FOR ADONIS

     Ah, for Adonis!
     See, he is dying,
     Delicate, lovely,
     Slender Adonis.

     Ah, for Adonis!
     Weep, O ye maidens,
     Beating your bosoms,
     Rending your tunics.

     O Cytherea,
     Hasten, for never
     Loved thou another
     As thy Adonis.

     See, on the rosy
     Cheek with its dimple,
     Blushing no longer,
     Thanatos' shadow.

     Save him, O Goddess!
     Thou, the beguiler,
     All-powerful, holy,
     Stay the dread evil.

     Ah, for Adonis!
     No more at vintage
     Time will he come with
     Bloom of the meadows.

     Ah, for Adonis!
     See, he is dying,
     Fading as flowers
     With the lost summer.


     THE STRICKEN FLOWER

     Think not to ever look as once of yore,
     Atthis, upon my love; for thou no more
     Wilt find intact upon its stem the flower
     Thy guile left slain and bleeding in that hour.

     So ruthless shepherds crush beneath their feet
     The hill flower blooming in the summer heat;
     The hyacinth whose purple heart is found
     Left bruised and dead, to darken on the ground.


                   DEATH

     Death is an evil; so the Gods decree,
     So they have judged, and such must rightly be
     Our mortal view; for they who dwell on high
     Had never lived, had it been good to die.

     And so the poet's house should never know
     Of tears and lamentations any show;
     Such things befit not us who deathless sing
     Of love and beauty, gladness and the spring.

     No hint of grief should mar the features of
     Our dreams of endless beauty, lasting love;
     For they reflect the joy inviolate,
     Eternal calm that fronts whatever fate.

     Clëis, my darling, grieve no more, I pray!
     Let wandering winds thy sorrow bear away,
     And all our care; my daughter, let thy smile
     Shine through thy tears and gladden me the while.


                   PERSEPHONE

     I saw a tender maiden plucking flowers
     Once, long ago, in the bright morning hours;
     And then from heaven I saw a sudden cloud
     Fall swift and dark, and heard her cry aloud.

     Again I looked, but from my open door
     My anxious eyes espied the maid no more;
     The cloud had vanished, bearing her away
     To underlands beyond the smiling day.




PARTHENEIA

DIDAKTIKA


          MAIDENHOOD

     Do I long for maidenhood?
       Do I long for days
     When upon the mountain slope
       I would stand and gaze
     Over the Ægean's blue
       Melting into mist,
     Ere with love my virgin lips
       Cercolas had kissed?

     Maidenhood, O maidenhood,
       Whither hast thou flown?
     _To a land beyond the sea_
       _Thou hast never known._
     Maidenhood, O maidenhood,
       Wilt return to me?
     _Never will my bloom again_
       _Give its grace to thee._

     Now the autumn skies are low,
       Youth and summer sped;
     Shepherd hills are far away,
       Cercolas is dead.
     Mitylene's marble courts
       Echo with my name;--
     Maidenhood, we never dreamed,
       Long ago of fame.


          EVER MAIDEN

     I shall be ever maiden,
       Ever the little child,
     In my passionate quest for the lovely,
       By earth's glad wonder beguiled.

     I shall be ever maiden,
       Standing in soul apart,
     For the Gods give the secret of beauty
       Alone to the virgin heart.


               CLËIS

     Daughter of mine, so fair,
       With a form like a golden flower,
     Wherefore thy pensive air
       And the dreams in the myrtle bower?

     Clëis, beloved, thy eyes
       That are turned from my gaze, thy hand
     That trembles so, I prize
       More than all the Lydian land;

     More than the lovely hills
       With the Lesbian olive crowned;--
     Tell me, darling, what ills
       In the gloom of thy thought are found?

     Daughter of mine, come near
       And thy head on my knees recline;
     Whisper and never fear,
       For the beat of thy heart is mine.

     Sweet mother, I can turn
       With content to my loom no more;
     My bosom throbs, I yearn
       For a youth that my eyes adore;

     Lykas of Eresus,
       Whom I knew when a little child;
     My heart by Love is thus
       With the sweetest of pain beguiled.


                      ASPIRATION

     I do not think with my two arms to touch the sky,
       I do not dream to do almighty things;
     So small a singing bird may never soar so high,
       To beat the sapphire fire with baffled wings.

     I do not think with my two arms to touch the sky,
       I do not dream by any chance to share
     With deathless Gods the bliss of Paphos they deny
       To men behind the azure veil of air.


                 HERO, OF GYARA

     I taught Hero, of Gyara, the swift runner;
       Swifter far was she than Atalanta,
     When through clinging fleece of her wind-rippled
       Garments blushed the glimmer of her limbs.

     I taught Hero, of Gyara, the swift runner;
       Lovelier was she than Atalanta,
     When the straining vision of the suitor
       Saw her beauty mock impending death.

     I taught Hero, of Gyara, the swift runner,
       All the singing numbers of Terpander,
     Metres of Archilochus and Alcman,
       And my melic verse that glows supreme.

     I taught Hero, of Gyara, the swift runner,
       Sapphics with their triple surge of music
     Melting in the final verse Adonic,
       Like the foam fall of a spended wave.


              COURAGE

     Faint not in thy strong heart!
       Nor downcast stand apart;
     Beyond the reach of daring will there lies
       No beauty's prize.

     Faint not in thy strong heart!
       Through temple, field and mart,
     Courage alone the guerdon from the fray
       May bear away.


       THE BOAST OF ARES

     Ares said he would drag
       Hephestus by force
     From Poseidon's palace
       Deep down in the sea;
       Where he had fashioned
     The cunning throne
       With the secret chains.

     He presented the throne,
       Forsooth, as a gift
     To the queen of heaven;
       But Hera soon found
       For revenge on her
     Who had him cast
       From the home of Gods.

     For secure in its clasp
       Of adamant gold
     She was held imprisoned,
       The prey of his guile;
       And Hephestus knew
     By him alone
       Could the queen be freed.

     But the great God of war
       Made boast of his strength;
     He would bring the forger
       Of metals and tricks
       On high to release
     Hera, and end
       Her enraged despair.

     Ares said he would drag
       Hephestus by force,
     But was made to waver
       And flee when assailed
       With a blazing brand
     By the dark God
       Of the underworld.


            GOLD

     Gold is the son of Zeus,
       Immortal, bright;
     Nor moth nor worm may eat it,
       Nor rust tarnish.

     So are the Muse's gifts
       The offspring fair,
     That merit from high heaven
       Youth eternal.


                GNOMICS

                   I

     My ways are quiet, none may find
     My temper of malignant kind;
     For one should check the words that start
     When anger spreads within the heart.

                   II

     Who from my hands what I can spare
     Of gifts accept the largest share,
     Those are the very ones who boast
     No gratitude and wrong me most.

                   III

     He who in face and form is fair
     Must needs be good, the Gods declare;
     But he whose thought and act are right
     Will soon be equal fair to sight.

                    IV

     Beauty of youth is but the flower
     Of spring, whose pleasure lasts an hour;
     While worth that knows no mortal doom
     Is like the amaranthine bloom.


               PRIDE

     Pride not thyself upon a ring,
       Or any trinket thing
     Of fleeting value, dross or gold.

     Wealth, lacking worth, is no safe friend,
       Though both to life may lend,
     In just proportion, joy untold.


              LETO AND NIOBE

     Leto and Niobe were friends full dear,
     The Goddess' heart and woman's heart were one
     In that maternal love that men revere,
     Love that endures when other loves are done.

     But Niobe with all a mother's pride,
     Artless and foolish, would not be denied;
     And boasted that her children were more fair
     Than Leto's lovely children of the air.

     The proud Olympians vowed revenge for this,
     Irate Apollo, angered Artemis;
     They slew her children, heedless of her moan,
     And with the last her heart was turned to stone.


             THE DYE

     From Scythian wood they brew
     The dye whose yellow hue
     Turns gold the lovely hair
     Of Lesbians fair.

     So, Zanthis, slave of mine,
     Shall dip the fleeces fine,
     And dye the robes I made
     A saffron shade.




EROTIKA

DITHYRAMBS


              HYMN TO PAPHIA

     Immortal Paphia! have I earned thy hate,
       That I should burn in passion's fatal flame?
       Is not my constant service thine to claim,
     My prayer's appeal with praise of thee elate?

     Has not my life been one sole hymn of thee,
       One quivering chord on Love's harp overwrought?
       My soul has trembled up to thee in thought,
     Probed to its depth thy every ecstasy.

     Are not my countless heart-beats each a vow,
       Of tribute throbs a garland? For thy gain
       The Fates have drenched my soul in passion's rain,
     Pieria's roses twined about my brow.

     The virgin harvest of my heart was thine,
       I shuddered in the joy that half consumed;
       The votive garlands on thy altar bloomed,
     My days were songs to nights of bliss divine.

     Why try me, then, with torture, gracious Queen?
       Why verge me on this rapture's dread abyss,
       Hold breast from breast and stay the yearning kiss?
     Ah, couldst thou fashion pain that stung less keen?

     The throe of Tantalus is mine to bear,
       Beauty that Thetis-like eludes my clasp;
       Glances that lure, that make each breath a gasp,
     And then disdainful gloat at my despair.

     Scornful she dwells beyond my ardor's clutch,
       Bathed in an aureole of carnal fire;--
       O bind her equal slave to fond desire,
     Let passion's tingling warmth her being touch!

     Come to me, Goddess, come as once of old,
       Hearing my voice implore thee from afar,
       I drew to earth thy dazzling avatar;
     Accord the smile of piercing bliss untold.


     Ask me the dear suave question phrased of yore;
       "Sappho, who grieveth now thy mad fond heart?
       Wouldst win her beauty, she who frowns apart?
     Wild as thou lovest, she soon shall love thee more."

     O fair Olympian, answer thus, I pray!
       Release me from this torment, yield my arms
       The transport thirsted of her folded charms,
     In glow that welds her heart to mine for aye.


                    EROS

     From the gnarled branches of the apple trees
     The heavy petals, lifted by the breeze,
     Fluttered on puffs of odor fine and fell
     In the clear water of the garden well;

     And some a bolder zephyr blew in sport
     Across the marble reaches of my court,
     And some by sudden gusts were wafted wide
     Toward sea and city, down the mountain side.

     Lesbos seemed Paphos, isled in rosy glow,
     Green olive hills, the violet vale below;
     The air was azure fire and o'er the blue
     Still sea the doves of Aphrodite flew.

     My dreaming eyes saw Eros from afar
     Coming from heaven in his mother's car,
     In purple tunic clad; and at my heart
     The God was aiming his relentless dart.

     He whom fair Aphrodite called her son,
     She, the adored, she, the imperial One;
     He passed as winds that shake the soul, as pains
     Sweet to the heart, as fire that warms the veins;

     He passed and left my limbs dissolved in dew,
     Relaxed and faint, with passion quivered through;
     Exhausted with spent thrills of dread delight,
     A sudden darkness rushing on my sight.


                PASSION

     Now Love shakes my soul, a mighty
       Wind from the high mountain falling
       Full on the oaks of the forest;

     Now, limb-relaxing, it masters
       My life and implacable thrills me,
       Rending with anguish and rapture.

     Now my heart, paining my bosom,
       Pants with desire as a mænad
       Mad for the orgiac revel.

     Now under my skin run subtle
       Arrows of flame, and my body
       Quivers with surge of emotion.

     Now long importunate yearnings
       Vanquish with surfeit my reason;
       Fainting my senses forsake me.


          APHRODITE'S PRAISE

     O Sappho, why art thou ever
     Singing with praises the blessed
          Queen of the heaven?

     Why does the heart in thy bosom
     Ever revert in its yearning
          Throb to the Goddess?

     Why are thy senses unsated
     Ever in quest of elusive
          Love that is deathless?

     Ah, gracious Daughter of Cyprus,
     Never can I as a mortal
          Tire of thy service.

     Thou art the breath of my body,
     The blood in my veins, and the glowing
          Pulse of my bosom.

     Omnipotent, burning, resistless,
     Thou art the passion that shaking
          Masters me ever.

     Thou art the crisis of rapture
     Relaxing my limbs, and the melting
          Ebb of emotion;

     Bringing the tears to my lashes,
     Sighs to my lips, in the swooning
          Excess of passion.

     O golden-crowned Aphrodite,
     Grant I shall ever be grateful,
          Sure of thy favor;

     Worthy the lot of thy priestess,
     Supreme in the song that forever
          Rings with thy praises.


          THE FIRST KISS

     And down I set the cushion
     Upon the couch that she,
     Relaxed supine upon it,
     Might give her lips to me.

     As some enamored priestess
     At Aphrodite's shrine,
     Entranced I bent above her
     With sense of the divine.

     She had, by nature nubile,
     In years a child, no hint
     Of any secret knowledge
     Of passion's least intent.

     Her mouth for immolation
     Was ripe, and mine the art;
     And one long kiss of passion
     Deflowered her virgin heart.


                 ODE TO ATTHIS

     I loved you, Atthis, once, long years ago!
     My blood was flame that thrilled to passion's throe;
     Now long neglect has quenched the olden fire,
     And blight of drifting years effaced desire.

     I loved you, Atthis--joy of long ago--
     Love shook my soul as winds on forests blow;
     This lawless heart that dared exhaust delight,
     Unsated strove and maddened through the night.

     I loved you, Atthis, once, long years ago!
     With pain whose surge I felt to anguish grow;
     Suffered the storms that waste the heart and leave
     A desert shore where seas but break to grieve.

     I loved you, Atthis--spring of long ago--
     Watched you depart, to Andromeda go;
     Then I, as keen despair its shadow cast,
     O'er my deserted threshold, sobbing, passed.

     I loved you, Atthis, once, long years ago!
     The thought of me is hateful now, I know;
     And all the lavish tenderness of old
     Has gone from me and left my bosom cold.

     I loved you, Atthis--dream of long ago--
     *   *   *   *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
     How the fond words, impassioned music low,
     Sustain the sigh of love's divine regret
     No length of time may bid the heart forget.


          COMPARISON

     Less soft a Tyrian robe
       Of texture fine,
     Less delicate a rose
       Than flesh of thine.

     Whiter thy breast than snow
       That virgin lies,
     And deeper than the blue
       Of seas thy eyes.

     More golden than the fruit
       Of orange trees,
     Thy locks that floating lure
       The satyr breeze.

     Less fine of silver string
       An Orphic lyre,
     Less sweet than thy low laugh
       That wakes desire.


       THE SACRIFICE

     Upon a cushion soft
       My limbs I place,
     My every garment doffed
       For deeper grace;
     From burning doves embalmed
       In baccharis,
     The scented fumes have calmed
       Me like a kiss.

     Beyond the phallic shrine
       That tripods light,
     I pledge with holy wine
       An image white;
     Anadyomene,
       Than foam more fair,
     When from the ravished sea
       She rose to air.

     Daughter of God, accept
       These gifts of mine!
     Last night my body slept
       In arms divine.
     These sated lips and eyes
       That erstwhile sued,
     Accord this sacrifice
       In gratitude.


           LEDA

       Once on a time
     They say that Leda found
       Beneath the thyme
     An egg upon the ground;

       And yet the swan
     She fondled long ago
       Was whiter than
     Its shell of peeping snow.


         AMŒBEUM: ALCÆUS AND SAPPHO

                  ALCUSÆUS

     Violet-weaving Sappho, pure and lovely,
     Softly-smiling Sappho, I would utter
     Something that my secret hope has cherished,
     Did no painful sense of shame deter me.

                   SAPPHO

     Had the impulse of thy heart been honest,
     It had urged no evil supplication;
     Shame had not abashed thy eyes before me,
     And thy words had done thee no dishonor.

                   ALCÆUS

     Softly-smiling Sappho, longing bids me
     Tell thee all that in my heart lies hidden.

                   SAPPHO

     Have no fear, Alcæus, to offend me!
     Thy emotion stirs my heart to pity.

                   ALCÆUS

     I desire thee, violet-weaving Sappho!
     Love thee madly, softly-smiling Sappho!

                   SAPPHO

     Hush, Alcæus! thou must choose a younger
     Comrade for thy couch, for I would never
     Join thy years to mine--the Gods forbid it--
     Youth and ardent fire to age and ashes.


           THE LOVE OF SELENE

     Across the still sea's moonlit wave
           Selene came
     Softly to seek the Latmian cave,
           Her breast aflame

     With secret passion's ruthless throe,
           Her scruples done,
     And burning with desire to know
           Endymion.


            THE CRETAN DANCE

     As the moon in all her splendor
     Slowly rose above the forest,
     Silent stood the Cretan women
              Round the altar.

     Girdled close their clinging tunics,
     Made of some transparent fabric,
     Traced the every curve and lissome
              Of their bodies.

     With revering eyes uplifted
     To the round and rising planet,
     Soon its drifting beams of silver
              Lit their faces.

     Soft and clear its sphere effulgent,
     Full defined above the treetops,
     Steeped in pale unearthly glamor
              All the landscape.

     When the argent glimmer rested
     On the altar piled with garlands,
     And its glow unveiled the marble
              Aphrodite;

     Linking hands, the Cretan women
     Moving gracefully with metric
     Steps began to dance a measure
              To the Goddess.

     All so light their feet unsandalled
     Pressed the velvet grass in treading,
     That they scarcely bruised its tender
              Blooming verdure.

     Slowly turning in a circle
     To the east, their voices chanted
     In a plaintive note the sacred
              Ithyphallics;

     Then they paused, their steps retracing
     Toward the west, and answered strophe
     By antistrophe with choric
           Tones accordant;

     With the aftersong epodic,
     Standing all before the altar,
     Lo! the hymn in praise of Paphos
           Was completed.


                 TO ALCÆUS

     Countless are the cups thou drainest
     In thy hymns to Dionysos,
                        O Alcæus!

     War and wine alone thou singest;--
     Whereforenot of Aphrodite,
                        O Alcæus!

     Spacious halls are thine where many
     Trophies hang in Ares' honor,
                        O Alcæus!

     Brazen shields and shining helmets,
     Plates of brass, Chalcidian broad-swords,
                        O Alcæus!

     When with winter roars the Thracian
     North wind through the leafless forest,
                        O Alcæus!

     Thou dost heap the fire and banish
     Care with many a tawny goblet,
                        O Alcæus!


            HYPORCHEME


      Thus contend the maidens
        In the cretic dance,
      Rosy arms that glisten,
        Eyes that glance;

      Cheeks as fair as blossoms,
        Parted lips that glow,
      With their honeyed voices
        Chanting low;

      With their plastic bodies
        Swaying to the flute,
      Moving with the music
        Never mute;

      Graceful the orchestric
        Figures they unfold,
      While the vesper heaven
        Turns to gold.


                     LARICHUS

     While charming maids plait garlands for thy brows,
     Larichus, bring the pledge for this carouse
     Like lovely Ganymede, brother mine,
     And cool from thy patera pour the wine.

     Thy slender limbs have all a Satyr's grace,
     Hylas, the Wood-God, dimples in thy face;
     These maids of mine, beloved and loving me,
     My dreams have made thy Nymphs to sport with thee.

     I heard fair Mitylene's plaudits cease
     O'er Lykas, Menon and Dinnomenes;
     And hail thy beauty worthy of the prize,
     Cupbearer to the council of the wise.

     No noble youth the prytaneum holds,
     Whose graceful form the purple tunic folds
     Can match with thee, when on affairs of state
     All Lesbos gathers with the wise and great.


                    SPRING

     Come, shell divine, be vocal now for me,
     As when the Hebrus river and the sea
     To Lesbos bore, on waves harmonious,
     The head and golden lyre of Orpheus.

     Calliope, queen of the tuneful throng,
     Descend and be the Muse of melic song;
     For through my frame life's tides renewing bring
     The glad vein-warming vigor of the spring.

     The skies that dome the earth with far blue fire
     Make the wide land one temple of desire;--
     Just now across my cheek I felt a God,
     In the enraptured breeze, pass zephyr-shod.

     Was that Pan's flute, O Atthis, that we heard,
     Or the soft love-note of a woodland bird?
     That flame a scarlet wing that skimmed the stream,
     Or the red flash of our impassioned dream?

     Ah, soon again we two shall gather fair
     Garlands of dill and rose to deck our bare
     White arms that cling, white breast that burns to breast,
     When the long night of love shall banish rest.




GIRL FRIENDS


         PRELUDE

     Deftly on my little
     Seven-stringed barbitos,
     Now to please my girl friends
     Songs I set to music.

     Maidens fair, companions
     Of the Muses, never
     Toward you shall my feelings
     Undergo a change.

     Chanted in a plaintive
     Old Ionic measure,
     All the songs I give you
     Are the songs of love.


         ANDROMEDA

     What bucolic maiden
     Now thy heart bewitches,
     O my Andromeda
     Of the strange amours?

     Round her awkward ankles
     She has not the faintest
     Sense of art to draw her
     Long ungraceful tunic.

     Yet she surely makes thee,
     O my Andromeda,
     For thy sweet unlawful
     Love a fair requital.

     Joy and praise attend thee,
     In thy keen perceptive
     Taste for beauty, daughter
     Of Polyanax!


            EUNEICA

      Aphrodite's handmaid,
      Bright as gold thou earnest,
      Tender woven garlands
      Round thy tender neck;

      Sweet as soft Persuasion,
      Lissome as the Graces,
      Shy Euneica, lovely
      Girl from Salamis.

      Slender thou as Syrinx,
      As the waving reed-nymph,
      Once by Pan, the god of
      Summer winds, deflowered.

      On thy lips whose quiver
      Seems to plead for pity,
      Mine shall rest and linger
      Like the mouth of Pan

      On the mouth of Syrinx,
      When his breath that filled her
      Blew through all her body
      Music of his love.


           GORGO

      Gorgo, I am weary
      Of thy love's insistence,
      Thou to me appearest
      An ill-favored child.

      Though I am than Gello
      Fonder still of virgins,
      Toward thee I have never
      Felt the least desire.

      Yesternight I knew not
      What to do, for pity
      Moved my bosom deeply,
      Seeing thee implore.

      Harassed by alternate
      Yielding and refusal,
      I was half persuaded
      Then to grant thy prayer.

      At my door thy presence
      Lingers like a shadow;
      Vain wouldst thou reproach me
      With appealing eyes.

      Dost thou think by constant
      Proofs of lasting passion,
      Slowly my obdurate
      Will to wear away?

      Gorgo, I am weary
      Of thy love's insistence,
      And my strength exhausted
      Grants thy wish at last.


                 MNASIDICA

      Set, O Dica, garlands on thy lovely
      Glinting mass of fine and golden tresses,
      Sprays of dill with fingers soft entwining
      While I stand apart to better judge.

      Those who have fair wreaths about the forehead,
      Breathing brentheian odor to the senses,
      Ever first find favor with the Graces
      Who from wreathless suppliants turn away.

      Dica, Mnasidica, thou art shapely
      With the flowing curves of Aphrodite;
      Eyes the color of her azure ocean
      Washing wide on Cyprus' languid shore.

      In thy every movement grace unconscious
      Sways the rhythmic poem of thy body,
      Charming with elusive undulation
      Like a splendid lily in the wind.

      As I stand apart to judge the better
      Fair effects that roses add to beauty,
      All thy rays of loveliness concentered
      Sun me till I swoon with swift desire.


           TELESIPPA

      Sleep thou in the bosom
      Of thy tender girl friend,
      Telesippa, gentle
      Maiden from Miletus.

      Like twin petals shyly
      Closing to the darkness,
      Dewy on your drooping
      Lids shall fall her kisses.

      While her arms enfold you,
      On your drowsy senses
      Shall her soft caresses
      Seal delicious languor.

      Warm from her desireful
      Heart the flush of passion
      On your cheek unconscious,
      With her sighs shall deepen.

      All the long sweet night-time,
      Sleepless while you slumber,
      She shall lie and quiver
      With her love's mad longing.


             GYRINNO

      Now the silver crescent
      Of the moon has vanished,
      With the golden Pleiads
      Drifting down the west.

      It is after midnight
      And the time is passing,
      Hours we pledged to passion
      And I sleep alone.

      Anger ill becomes thee,
      Tender-souled Gyrinno,
      Shapelier is Dica
      But less loved by me.

      Art thou still relentless,
      Wilful one, annulling
      All thy protestations
      In the fervid past?

      Can it, O Charites,
      Be thou hast forgotten?
      Dost thou love another,
      Even now, perchance?

      Ah, my tears are falling,
      Yet in my despairing
      Mood I lie and listen
      For thy furtive step;

      For the lightest rustle
      Of thy flowing garment,
      For thy sweet and panting
      Whisper at the door.

      Now the moon has vanished
      With the golden Pleiads;
      It is after midnight
      And I sleep alone.


             MEGARA

      Thou burnest us, Megara,
      With thy passions wild;
      Bringing from Panormus
      Such unbridled fires.

      Thou burnest us, a supple
      Flow of tortured flame,
      Raging, biting, searing,
      Lawless of the will.

      Thou burnest us, Megara,
      Love must know reserve,
      Curbing power to keep it
      Keener for restraint.


                ERINNA

     Haughtier than thou, O fair Erinna,
     I have never met with any maiden.

     Such a careless scorn as thine for passion
     Proves a dire affront to Aphrodite.

     When with soft desire she wounds thy bosom,
     Thou shalt know love's pain and doubly suffer.

     Keep the gifts I gave thee, long rejected;
     Fabrics for thy lap from far Phocea,

     Babylonian unguents, scented sandals,
     And the costly mitra for thy tresses;

     Tripods worked in brass to flank the altar
     With the ivory figure of the Goddess;

     Where the sacrificial fumes from sacred
     Flames shall rise to gladden and appease her,

     In the hour when at her call thy fervid
     Breast and mouth to mine shall be relinquished.


           GONGYLA

     It was when the sunset
     Burned with saffron fire,
     And Apollo's coursers
     Turned below the hills,

     That on Mitylene's
     Marble bridge we met,
     Gongyla, thou golden
     Maid of Colophon.

     Like the breath of morning
     Or a breeze from sea,
     Fresh thy beauty smote me,
     Virile of the north.

     Startled by thy vision,
     Transports half divine
     Flooded veins and bosom,
     Shook me with desire.

     Soon the kinder sunglow
     Of Æolic lands
     Melted all the futile
     Snows about thy heart.


          DAMOPHYLA

     Cold of heart and strangely
     Uninclined to passion,
     Wisdom's vigil leaves thee,
     Proud Damophyla.

     Sapphics thou hast written,
     Verses in my metre,
     With a skill surpassing
     In the melic art.

     Love's superb enchantment
     Thou art fain to banish,
     Like the virgin Huntress
     Long by thee adored.

     Molded by thy tunic,
     Every arching contour
     Of her chaste and noble
     Form I dream to see;

     Even view her stepping
     From the leafy covert
     Down the dawn-white valley,
     Stately as a stag.

     Long I sued but found thee
     Deaf to all entreaty,
     Till one summer twilight
     Listless in the heat;

     Soothed by slumber's languor,
     And my low monodic
     Voice that hymned a paean
     In the praise of love;

     Loth to yield yet vanquished,
     As I knelt beside thee,
     All thy long resistance
     To my kiss succumbed.


         ANAGORA

     Anagora, fairest
     Spoil of fateful battle,
     Babylonian temples
     Knew thy luring song.

     Wrested from barbaric
     Captors for thy beauty,
     Thou wert made a priestess
     At Mylitta's shrine.

     Once these flexile fingers
     Clasped in mine so closely,
     Neath the temple's arches
     Thrummed the tabor soft.

     Thou hast taught me secrets
     Of the cryptic chambers,
     How the zonahs worship
     In the burning East;

     Raptures that my wildest
     Dreaming never pictured,
     Arts of love that charmed me,
     Subtle, new and strange.

     Hearken to my earnest
     Prayer, O Aphrodite!
     May the night be doubled
     Now for our delight.





PHAON


           PHILOMEL

     Philomel in my garden,
     Messenger sweet of springtide,
         From the bough of the olive tree utter
             Tidings ecstatic.

     Linger long on thy olden
     Note as in days remembered;
         Ere the Boatman that knew Aphrodite
             Ravished my vision.

     Fatal glamor of beauty,
     Beauty of Gods made mortal;
         Ah, before its delight I am ever
             Fearful of heaven.

     Spring in breeze and the blossom,
     Grasses and leaves and odors,
         On my heart with the breath of a vanished
             April is shaken;

     Shaken with thrill and regret of
     Lost caresses and kisses;
         Anactoria's memory, Atthis
             Never forgotten.

     Philomel in my garden,
     Messenger sweet of springtide,
         From the bough of the olive tree utter
             Tidings ecstatic.


          GOLDEN PULSE

     Golden pulse grew on the shore,
       Ferns along the hill,
     And the red cliff roses bore
       Bees to drink their fill;

     Bees that from the meadows bring
       Wine of melilot,
     Honey-sups on golden wing
       To the garden grot.

     But to me, neglected flower,
       Phaon will not see,
     Passion brings no crowning hour,
       Honey nor the bee.


           THE SWALLOW

     Daughter of Pandion, lovely
     Swallow that veers at my window,
     Swift on the flood of the sunshine
           Darting thy shadow;

     What is thy innocent purpose,
     Why dost thou hover and haunt me?
     Is it a kinship of sorrow
           Brings thee anear me?

     Must thou forever be tongueless,
     Flying in fear of Tereus?
     Must he for Itys pursue thee,
           Changed to a lapwing?

     Tireless of pinion and never
     Resting on bush or the branches,
     Close to the earth, up the azure,
           Over the treetops;

     After thy wing in its madness
     Follows my glance, as a flitting
     Child on the track of its mother
           Hastens in silence.

     Daughter of Pandion, lovely
     Swallow that veers at my window,
     Hast thou a message from Cyprus
           Telling of Phaon?


                    TIDINGS

     She wrapped herself in linen woven close,
     Stuffs delicate and texture-fine as those
     The dark Nile traders for our bartering
     From Egypt, Crete and far Phocea bring.

     Love lent her feet the wings of winds to reach
     (Whose steps stir not the shingle of the beach)
     My marble court and, breathless, bid me know
     My lover's sails across the harbor blow.

     He seemed to her, as to himself he seems,
     Like some bright God long treasured in her dreams;
     She saw him standing at his galley's prow--
     My Phaon, mine, in Mitylene now!


         HESPERUS

     Hesperus shines
       Low on the eastern wave,
     Off toward the Asian shore;

     Over faint lines
       Whose grays and purples pave
     Where seas night-calmed adore.

     Fair vesper fire,
       Fairest of stars, the light
     Benign of secret bliss;

     Star of desire,
       Bringing to me with night
     Dreams and my Phaon's kiss.


                     DAWN

      Just now the golden-sandalled Dawn
      Peered through the lattice of my room;
            Why must thou fare so soon, my Phaon?

      Last night I met thee at the shore,
      A thousand hues were in the sky;
            The breeze from Cyprus blew, my Phaon!

      I drew, to lave thy heated brow,
      My kerchief dripping from the sea;
            Why hadst thou sailed so far, my Phaon?

      Far up the narrow mountain paths
      We heard the shepherds fluting home;
            Like some white God thou seemed, my Phaon!

      And through the olive trees we saw
      The twinkle of my vesper lamp;
            Wilt kiss me now as then, my Phaon?

      Nay, loosen not with gentle force
      The clasp of my restraining arms;
            I will not let thee go, my Phaon!

      See, deftly in my trailing robe
      I spring and draw the lattice close;
            Is it not night again, my Phaon?


               THE FAREWELL

      Beloved, stand face to face,
        And, lifting lids, disclose to me the grace,
      The Paphic fire that lingers yet and lies
        Reflected in thy eyes.

      Phaon, my sole beloved,
        Stand not to my mad passion all unmoved;
      O let, ere thou to far Panormus sail,
        One hour of love prevail.

      Dear ingrate, come and let
        Thy breath like odor from a cassolet,
      Thy smile, the clinging touch of lips and heart
        Anoint me, ere we part.

      Phaon, I yearn and seek
        But thee alone; and what I feel must speak
      In all these fond and wilful ways of mine,
        O mortal, made divine!

      My girl friends now no more
        Hang their sweet gifts of garlands at my door;
      Dear maids, with all your vanished empery
        Ye now are naught to me.

      Phaon, thy galley rides
        Within the harbor's mouth and waits the tides
      And favoring winds, far to the west to fly
        And leave me here to die.

      The brawny rowers lean
        To bend long-stroking oars; and changing scene
      And fairer loves than mine shall soon efface
        This last divine embrace.

      Phaon, the lifting breeze!
        See, at thy feet I kneel and clasp thy knees!
      Go not, go not! O hear my sobbing prayer,
        And yield to my despair!


          DARK-EYED SLEEP

     Dark-eyed Sleep, child of Night,
       Come in thy shadow garment to my couch,
     And with thy soothing touch,
     Cool as the vesper breeze,
       Grant that I may forget;

     Bestow condign release,
       A taste of rest that comes with endless sleep;
     Lure off the haunting dreams,
     The dire Eumenides
       That torture my repose.

     For I would live a space
       Though Phaon has forsaken me, nor yet
     Be found on shadow fields
     Among the lilies tall
       Of pale Persephone.


     THE CLIFF OF LEUCAS

     Afar-seen cliff
     Stands in the western sea
     Toward Cephallenian lands.

     Apollo's temple crowns
     Its whitened crest,
     And at its base
     The waves eternal beat.

     Its leap has power
     To cure the pangs
     Of unrequited love.

     Thither pale lovers go
     With anguished hearts
     To dare the deep and quench
     Love's slow consuming flame.

     Urged to the edge
     By maddening desire,
     I, too, shall fling myself
     Imploring thee,
     Apollo, lord and king!

     Into the chill
     Embraces of the sea,
     Less cold than thine, O Phaon,
     I shall fall--
     Fall with the flutter of a wounded dove;

     And I shall rise
     Indifferent forever to love's dream,
     Or find below
     The sea's eternal voice,
     Eternal peace.




EPIGRAMS


     THE DUST OF TIMAS

     This is the dust of Timas! Here inurned
     Rest the dear ashes where so late had burned
     Her spirit's flame. She perished, gentle maid,
     Before her bridal day and now a shade,
     Silent and sad, she evermore must be
     In the dark chamber of Persephone.
     When life had faded with the flower and leaf,
     Each girl friend sweet, in token of her grief,
     Resigned her severed locks with bended head,
     Beauty's fair tribute to the lovely dead.


     THE PRIESTESS OF ARTEMIS

     Maidens, that pass my tomb with laughter sweet,
     A voice unresting echoes at your feet;
     Pause, and if any would my story seek,
     Dumb as I am, these graven words will speak;
     Once in the vanished years it chanced to please
     Arista, daughter of Hermocleides,
     To dedicate my life in virgin bliss
     To thee, revered of women, Artemis!
     O Goddess, deign to bless my grandsire's line,
     For Saon was a temple priest of thine;
     And grant, O Queen, in thy benefic grace,
     Unending fame and fortune to his race.


                PELAGON

     Above the lowly grave of Pelagon,
     Ill-fated fisher lad, Meniscus' son,
     His father placed as sign of storm and strife
     The weel and oar, memorial of his life.


FINIS




INDEX


SAPPHICS

THE MUSES
MUSAGETES
LOVE'S BANQUET
MOON AND STARS
ODE TO ANACTORIA
THE ROSE
ODE TO APHRODITE
SUMMER
THE GARDEN OF THE NYMPHS
APHRODITE'S DOVES
ANACREON'S SONG
THE DAUGHTER OF CYPRUS
THE DISTAFF
THE SLEEP WIND
THE REPROACH
LONG AGO

EPITHALAMIA: THRENODES

HYMENAIOS
BRIDAL SONG
EPITHALAMIUM
PIERIA'S ROSE
LAMENT FOR ADONIS
THE STRICKEN FLOWER
DEATH
PERSEPHONE

PARTHENEIA: DIDAKTIKA

MAIDENHOOD
EVER MAIDEN
CLËIS
ASPIRATION
HERO, OF GYARA
COURAGE
THE BOAST OF ARES
GOLD
GNOMICS
PRIDE
LETO AND NIOBE
THE DYE

EROTIKA: DITHYRAMBS

HYMN TO PAPHIA
EROS
PASSION
APHRODITE'S PRAISE
THE FIRST KISS
ODE TO ATTHIS
COMPARISON
THE SACRIFICE
LEDA
AMŒBEUM: ALCÆUS AND SAPPHO
THE LOVE OF SELENE
THE CRETAN DANCE
TO ALCÆUS
HYPORCHEME
LARICHUS
SPRING

GIRL FRIENDS

PRELUDE
ANDROMEDA
EUNEICA
GORGO
MNASIDICA
TELESIPPA
GYRINNO
MEGARA
ERINNA
GONGYLA
DAMOPHYLA
ANAGORA

PHAON

PHILOMEL
GOLDEN PULSE
THE SWALLOW
TIDINGS
HESPERUS
DAWN
THE FAREWELL
DARK-EYED SLEEP
THE CLIFF OF LEUCAS

EPIGRAMS

THE DUST OF TIMAS
THE PRIESTESS OF ARTEMIS
PELAGON