And round my brow be chaplets wove,
And summon, too, the maid I love:
For I my gloomy fears would drown,

Would sooth my spirit's anxious dread, Ere I descend in darkness down,

To the drear mansions of the silent dead!

Αἱ Μούσαι τον Ερωτα
Δήσασαι στεφάνοισι.

The Muses, having taken Love

Their pris'ner, watch'd with anxious duty,

And round the captive garlands wove,

And gave him to the care of Beauty.

And Venus now the boy would seek,
And bears a ransom that might move
His captors soon his chains to break,
And give his liberty to Love!

But though that rich and proffer'd dower
The gentle Venus kindly gave,

Yet, nursed in Beauty's fav'rite bower,

Love rather would remain a slave!

SAPPHO'S HYMN TO VENUS.

Ποικιλόθρον, ἀθανατ' Αφροδίτα.

Bright daughter of eternal Jove,
Empress of many a varied throne!
O! leave me not, blest Queen of love,
To languish thus unheard, alone!

But hasten to my frantic prayer,

As when, at many a former cry,

Swift hasting through the realms of air, Thou'st left thy dwelling in the sky.

For, oft from yon bright realms afar,
Immortal mother of the loves!

Hast thou descended in thy car,

Thy car of beauty, drawn by doves!

And scarce arrived, a radiant smile
Illuming thine immortal brow,

Hast quick inquired, "With impious wile

66

My fav'rite from approaching harm; "Say who is now my Sappho's slave,

"And dares her timid mind alarm?

"If Sappho now thy lover flies,

"He shall obey thine empire soon;

"And though he now thy power despise,
"Shall sue for grace with many a boon.”

Thus, Venus, haste again to me,
Alike my present cares remove,

And in my future sorrows be

The guardian seraph of my love!

A FRAGMENT ASCRIBED TO SAPPHO.

FROM ACHILLES TATIUS. BOOK II.

Εἰ τοῖς ἄνθεσιν ἤθελεν ο Ζεύς.

If Heaven, among the varied bowers

That bloom beneath the smile of Spring, Should choose a sovereign for the flowers, The rose would be that garden-king.

For 'tis the garden's fairest face,
The fav'rite of the smiling groves,

The

eye

of flowers, the meadow's grace,

To Venus sacred and the Loves!

The goddess owns its soft perfume,
And while its opening leaves aspire,
Superb in young and vernal bloom,

It mocks the zephyr's useless ire!