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SAPPH 0

O Ρ Η Α Ο Ν Ι. ECQUID, ut inspecta eft ftudiofae littera dex

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trae, Protinus est oculis cognita nostra tuis ? An, nisi legiffes auctoris nomina Sapphûs,

Hoc breve nescires unde movetur opus ? Forsitan et quare mea fint alterna requiras

Carmina, cum lyricis sim magis apta modis. Flendus amor meus est: elegeïa Aebile carmen;

Non facit ad lacrymas barbitos ulla meas.
Uror, ut, indomitis ignem exercentibus Euris,

Fertilis accenfis messibus ardet ager.
Arva Phaon celebrat diversa Typhoïdos Aetnae,

Me calor Aetnaeo non minor igne coquit.
Nec mihi, dispositis quae jungam carmina nervis,

Proveniunt; vacuae carmina mentis opus,
Nec me Pyrrhiades Methymniadesve puellae,

Nec me Lesbiadum caetera turba juvant. Vilis Anactorie, vilis mihi candida Cydno:

Non oculis grata eft Atthis, ut ante, meis;

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Can Phaon's eyes forget his Sappho's hand ? Must then her name the wretched writer

prove, To thy remembrance loft, as to thy love ? Ask not the cause that I new numbers chuse,

5 The Lute neglected, and the Lyric muse; Love taught my tears in fadder notes to flow, And tund my heart to Elegies of woe. I burn, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd corn By driving winds the spreading flames are born. 10 Phaon to Ætna's scorching fields retires, While I consume with more than Ætna's fires ! No more my soul a charm in music finds, Music has charms alone for peaceful minds. Soft scenes of solitude no more can please,

15 Love enters there, and I'm my own disease. No more the Lesbian dames my passion move, Once the dear objects of my guilty love;

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Atque aliae centum, quas non fine crimine amavi:

Improbe, multarum quod fuit unus habes. Eft in te facies, sunt apti lusibus anni.

O facies oculis infidiofa meis ! Sume fidem et pharetram ; fies manifeftus Apollo :

Accedant capiti cornua ; Bacchus eris.
Et Phoebus Daphnen, et Gnosida Bacchus amavit;

Nec norat lyricos illa, vel illa modos.
At mihi Pegafides blandissima carmina dictant;

Jam canitur toto nomen in orbe meum.
Nec plus Alcaeus, consors patriaeque lyraeque,

Laudis habet, quamvis grandius ille fonet.
Si mihi difficilis formam natura negavit ;

Ingenio formae damna rependo meae. Sum brevis; at nomen, quod terras impleat omnes,

Eit mihi; menfuram nominis ipsa fero. Candida fi non fum, placuit Cepheïa Perfeo

Andromede, patriae fusca colore fuae:
Et variis albae junguntur faepe columbae,

Et niger a viridi turtur amatur ave.
Si, nifi quae facie poterit te digna videri,

45 Nulla futura tua est; nulla futura tua eit.

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