And said'st thou this, dread goddess?-0, Come thou once more to ease my woe! Grant all!-and thy great self bestow, My shield and guide! TO THE BELOVED. BLEST as the immortal gods is he, 'Twas this deprived my soul of rest, My bosom glowed; a subtle flame In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd, THE DESERTED WIFE. THE moon has set, and o'er the seas The promised hour is come and past;- ON A BELOVED COMPANION. DEEP in the dreary chambers of the dead, Asteria's ghost hath made her bridal bed. Still to this stone her fond compeers may turn, | And shed their cherish'd tresses on her urn. ON AN ILLITERATE WOMAN. UNKNOWN, unheeded, shalt thou die, And no memorial shall proclaim, That once, beneath the upper sky, Thou hadst a being and a name. For never to the Muses' bowers Didst thou, with glowing heart repair, Nor ever intertwine the flowers, That Fancy strews unnumbered there. Doomed o'er that dreary realm, alone And shunned by gentler shades, to go, Nor friend shall soothe nor parent own The child of sloth, the Muses' foe.t * Longinus, to whom posterity is indebted for the preservation of this ode, attributes much of its beauty to the judicious choice which she has made of the various feelings attendant on jealous love, and the skilful manner in which she has brought and connected them together. Long, s. X. The fire and enthusiasm of Sappho's character (says Mr. Bland) appear in none of her works more unequivocally than in this little fragment. It is the burst of indignation at some home-spun, mighty-good sort of woman, FRAGMENTS. I. I HAVE a child-a lovely or3- Or like sweet flowers, of earliest bloom, II. COME, gentle Youth, and in thy flowing locks With delicate fingers weave a fragrant crown Of aromatic anise; for the gods Delight in flowery wreaths, nor lend an ear Propitious to their suit, who supplicate With brows unbound with sweetly smelling flowers. III. CLING to the brave and good-the base disownWhose best of fortunes is to live unknown. IV. THROUGH Orchard plots, with fragrance crown'd, V. WEALTH, without Virtue, is a dangerous guest; Who holds them mingled, is supremely blest. VI. HESPER! every gift is thine Thou bring'st the kidling from the rock; Thou bring'st the damsel with the flock; Thou bring'st us rosy wine. VII. BEAUTY, fair flower, upon the surface lies; But Worth with Beauty soon in aspect vies. VIII. MAIDEN LOVE. [THE following fragment, as Warton remarks, well represents "the languor and listlessness of one deeply in love!"] Он, my sweet mother,-'tis in vain- With thinking of that youth I love. who had neither a soul susceptible of poetry herself, nor the sense to admire, nor the candour to allow of it in others. This is a description of persons, which has been always severely handled by the poets, and the stigma of contempt with which they are branded by Sappho, is mercy to what they are sentenced to undergo by Dante"Questi sciaurati, che mai non fur vivi," &c. "Those miserables, who never truly lived. * No record of their names is left on high; Mercy and Justice spurn them and refuse. Take we no note of them-look, and pass by!" MIMNERMUS. [About 590 B. C.] "Who, therefore, seeks in these MINNERMUS was a native of Colophon, in Ionia, and eminent both as a musician and a poet. Judging of him from the few fragments of his writings which have descended to us, he was anything but the joyous spirit described by In the Love Elegy, Mimnermus is said to have Horace, Propertius, and others. He complains of the transiency of human enjoyment, of the reigned supreme, throughout all antiquity; (plus briefness of youth, and the vanity and wretched-in amore valet Mimnermi versus Homero.) But ness of life. But such was the prevailing creed his great work on the subject, (inscribed to his of Greece,—of her gayest poets, no less than of beloved Nanno,) or all but a shred of it, is lostdestroyed by the Byzantine Inquisitors. her gravest philosophers. YOUTH AND AGE. WHAT were life, and where its treasure, Golden Venus, wert thou flown? Ne'er may I outlive the pleasure Given to man by thee alone,- 4 Quickly, stripling! quickly, maiden! Soon draws nigh to level all,- Youth and grace his path declining, Joys no more his soul engage, THE EVILS OF MORTALITY. Of youth, departing with the summer sun: One with protracted hope and vain desires IBYCUS. [About 564 B. C.] IBYCUS was a native of Rhegium in Italy, but | been attached to them by a later and far greater chiefly resided at the court of Polycrates in Sa- bard, that he is here introduced. The story mos. He is styled by Suidas the most love-mad (according to Ælian) is, that, being attacked and (EpwroμavεOTATOS) of poets, and the short frag-wounded to death by robbers, and seeing, in his ments of his writings, that remain to us, seem fully to bear out the character thus given him. It is not so much, however, on account of his life or writings, as of the circumstances related of his death, and of the deathless interest which has dying moments a flight of cranes, he cried out:"Those birds will be my avengers!" And so they were; for one of the murderers happening *See Schiller's "Kraniche des Ibykus." soon afterwards to see a flock of the same birds came to light, and Ibycus' dying prophecy was flying over the market place of Corinth, inad-accomplished in the execution of his murderers. vertently exclaimed to his comrades: "Behold Hence the proverb of 'Iẞixov exdixo, in cases of the avengers of Ibycus!" His words were over-criminals unexpectedly found out and brought to heard, suspicions arose, inquiry followed, truth justice. THEOGNIS was born in the city of Megara or | in those relics of his poetry which have descended Alcathoe in Achaia, and was a traveller, a politician, and a man of pleasure, and of the world. He has been accused by ancient writers, of disseminating voluptuousness, under the guise of morality, but nothing of the kind is perceptible to us. He lived to be eighty-eight years of age, the greater portion of which period was passed by him and his brother-nobles in one perpetual struggle with the democracy. All his composi[tions are in the elegiac metre. YOUTH AND AGE. An me! alike o'er youth and age I sigh, EXHORTATION TO ENJOYMENT. MAY peace and riches crown my native towers, Nor war nor tumults break our festive hours; May glorious Jove, embracing earth and sky, Exulting view our mortal harmony; Thou, sweet Apollo, touch the happy crew, With shell and lute high raise the strain divine, And o'er the mournful spot regardless go, Or sing symphonious to the minstrel's lyre: Charm'd will I yield to every new delight, REASONABLE EXPECTATIONS. COULD wealth with sorrow unalloy'd be mine, Oh might my board with varied plenty shine! But since just Fortune doles to each his share, Be mine a poorer lot, but free from care. TEST OF TRUTH. In vino veritas. FIRE proves the treasures of the mine, The soul of man is proved by wine. TO JUPITER. JOVE, much I marvel at the way In which this world thou'rt pleased to sway; And quaffs his wine, and drives his nags, LIFE'S FIRST BLESSING. KYRNUS! of all good things in life, There's nought can equal a good wife; And we, I am sure, may prove it trueYou'll vouch for me, and I for you. TO KYRNUS. GENERAL CORRUPTION OF THE PEOPLE. Jove is no warrant for a promise given- APPROACH OF THE ENEMY. A SPEECHLESS messenger! the beacon's light A momentary pause, a narrow space Abroad you will retain a poor estate. POVERTY. For noble minds, the worst of miseries, TO THE CHIEF OF A FACTIOUS RABBLE. I've given thee wings o'er boundless earth and sea LASH your obedient rabble! Cast and load To speed thy easy flight; And thou, for ever dear, shalt voiced be Mid banquets of delight. The mellow flute, by fairest youths inspired, Glory shall wait thee in thy native home Alive though in the grave! The burden on their backs! Spur them and goad! They'll bear it all!-by patience and by birth The most submissive, humble slaves on earth. PRAYER FOR GOOD TO HIS FRIENDS, AND REVENGE ON HIS FOES. MAY Jove assist me to discharge a debt Through Greece and all her islands thou shalt Of kindness to my friends-and grant me yet roam, Above the ocean wave Nor borne on steeds, but by the Muses led, Whose temples violets wreathe; A further boon-revenge upon my foes! For whilst earth lasts, and day's glad light is shed, Gratitude and revenge, before I die, This song of thee shall breathe. Yet-yet by thee I'm treated like a child, With fond, vain words, for ever thus beguiled. Might make me deemed almost a deity. |