Epistulae

guilt. You, Phaon, take up all my thoughts; my care by day, and the nightly object of my dreams; dreams that charm more than the brightest day. In these I find you, though fled to remote regions; but, alas! the joys of sleep are vain and short-lived. Oft you seem to wind your arms round my yielding neck. Oft my arms fondly encircle thine. I soothe and address you in softest words, and my mouth is prompt to utter the language of my heart. I seem to give and take endearing kisses; and yield to joys which I blush to mention, while yet I must confess how much they please. But when the rising sun spreads his light over all; as if once more deserted, I complain that sleep has fled so soon. I retire to the caves and groves, as if caves and groves could yield relief; and fondly court the haunts that have witnessed your dear embraces. Thither I run, my hair loose and disheveled, like those who are infatuated by some powerful sorceress. There I behold the caves beset with rugged cliffs, that to me were more pleasant than the finest Phrygian marble. I find the grove that hath often afforded us a flowery bed, and sheltered us from the heat by

its spreading leaves. But I no more find him with whom I haunted these beloved shades: they now can please no more; for to him they owed all their charms. I view the pressed grass on which we have reposed our wearied limbs, where the bending turf retains the print of our double weight. i kiss the earth pressed by your lovely limbs, and bedew with tears the grateful herbs. For thee the trees, dropping their leaves, seem to mourn, and the tuneful birds deny their songs. The Phocian bind alone, that disconsolate mother, who took so cruel a revenge on her Thracian lord, mourns the hard fate of Itys. The nightingale mourns the fate of Itys; Sappho laments that she is deserted by Phaon. All else is silent, and

involved in the shades of night. A spring there is, whose waters run clear and transparent as crystal: here, as many think, a deity resides. Above, a flowery lotos spreads its shading branches, and seems itself a grove: the banks around are edged with eternal green. Here, while, after an effusion of tears, I rested my wearied limbs, a Naiad suddenly stood before my eyes. She stood, and said, O you who burn with an ill-requited flame, fly to the Acarnanian shore. Apollo from an impending rock surveys the extended ocean below, which is called, by the inhabitants, the sea of Actium and Leucate: hence Deucalion, inflamed with the hopeless love of Pyrrha, plunged himself unhurt into the main. Forthwith love changing, possessed the obstinate heart of Pyrrha; and Deucalion was freed from his flame. Such is the law of the place. Haste then, throw yourself from high Leucadia, nor dread the threatening steep.

She spoke, and disappeared with the voice. I rose amazed, and my dim eyes overflowed with tears. I go, O nymph,

to prove these healing rocks; fear recedes, borne down by powerful love. My fate, whatever it is, will be milder than at present. Blow up, gentle gales, beneath my falling body, and lay me softly on the swelling waves. And thou too, gentle Love, bear up my sinking limbs with out-spread wings; and let not Sappho's death profane the guiltless Leucadian flood. I will then hang up my lyre to Phœbus, and under it write this inscription: Grateful Sappho consecrates her harp to Phœbus; a gift that suits both the giver and the God. But why, relentless youth, do you drive me to distant coasts, when you can so easily cure me by your return? Your charms are more powerful than the Leucadian waves; and your merit and beauty make you a Phœbus to me. Can you bear, O more hard-hearted than the rocks and waves, to be reputed the cause of my untimely death? Would'st thou rather see this breast dashed on pointed rocks, than

pressed to thine? this breast, which you, Phaon, have so often praised as the seat of love and genius. But now genius is no more; grief checks my thoughts, and the edge of my wit is blunted by my misfortunes. My wonted strength no more furnishes the flowing lines; my lute is silent, and the sounding notes sink under a weight of woe. Ye Lesbian virgins and dames, so often celebrated by the Æolian lyre; Lesbians, the objects of my guilty love; cease to hope that I will more touch the sounding harp. Phaon is gone, and with him all my joys have vanished. Unhappy wretch, I had almost called him mine. Make him return; no more shall you complain of the absence of your poetess; it is he, he only, that inspires or quenches the poetic flame. Can prayers avail nothing? Is your savage breast proof against all tender feelings? or have the flying Zephyrs lost my words in air? O that the winds which bear away my words, would bring back your welcome sails! It is what, if you are wise for yourself, you

ought now, though late, to hasten. Or are you already on the way, and are sacrifices offered for your safety? Why do you tear my heart with cruel delays? Spread your sails: the sea-born Goddess will smooth the waves, and prosperous gales speed your course. Only weigh anchor, and set sail. Cupid himself, sitting at the helm, will govern the bark; he with a skilful hand will unfold and gather in the sails. Or do you choose to fly from unhappy Sappho? Alas! what have I done to be thus the object of your aversion? At least inform me of this by a few cruel lines, that I may plunge myself, with all my miseries, amidst the Leucadian waves.

PARIS, the son of Priam, sends health to helen; that health, which he can himself no otherwise enjoy, than as it is your gift. Shall I then speak? or is it unnecessary to inform you of a passion that betrays itself? Has not my love already laid itself too open? I could indeed wish it to lie conceaied, till the time comes when we can taste of joys unallayed by any mixture of fear. But it is in vain that I dissemble; for who can smother a flame that always discovers itself by its own brightness? If yet you expect that my tongue should confirm what my actions have so long declared,—I burn. This message brings

you the true sense of my heart. Forgive this kind confession; and do not peruse what remains with a severe look, but with one that best becomes your heavenly form. Already it gives me pleasure to think that my letter is well received; for this creates a hope that I may also meet with the same kind entertainment. Heaven grant that my hopes may be confirmed, and that the queen of love, who urged me to this voyage, may not have promised in vain. For, that you may not offend through ignorance, know that I came hither by a divine admonition, and that one, not the meanest of the divine powers, favors my design. The prize I seek indeed is great, yet what I may justly claim; for Venus promised you, fair as you are, to my bed. Guided by her, I abandoned the

Sigean shore, ventured upon a doubtful fate, and did not decline to plough the pathless deep in the Phereclean bark. She commanded a gentle breeze, and stretched the canvass with auspicious gales; for, having sprung from the teeming deep, she still retains her empire over the main. May she still persevere; and, as she calms the sea, so may she calm the tempest that rages in my breast, and bring home all my vows and sighs to their desired port. My flames I brought with me; for I did not first find them here. They were the cause of my undertaking so long a voyage: for no threatening storm or mistaken course drove us hither; my fleet was designed from the first for the coast of Laconia. Nor fancy that I plough the waves in a ship laden with merchandise: the Gods have already blessed me with ample wealth. Nor came I so far to view and admire the cities of Greece; my own kingdom is filled with richer towns. It is you that I seek, whom beautiful Venus promised to my embraces; I wished for the enjoyment of your love, even before I was acquainted with your charms. Long before my eyes beheld you, I had formed an image of you in my mind; for fame was the first messenger of your beauty. Nor is it so great a wonder,

that, pierced by the swift-winged arrow at such a distance, I offer you my heart. So the Fates have ordained; which that you may not strive to resist, attend to a relation that carries in it nothing but truth.

I was yet enclosed in the womb of my mother, now pregnant with a burthen almost struggling for birth. She in a mysterious dream seemed to herself to be delivered of a burning torch. She was frighted, and related to priam the tremendous visions of the gloomy might: he consulted the sacred seers. The prophet foretold, that the flames of the ruined Troy were portended by the threatening torch; but surely Fate meant the flames that now rage in my breast. Though exposed among shepherds, yet my form and native greatness

spoke the nobility of my birth.

In the thickest groves of Ida there is a place remarkably retired, and shaded with oaks and pitch-trees. The grass, upon this spot, is not touched by the bleating sheep, the goat delighting in rocks and cliffs, or the laborious ox. As here I stood leaning upon a tree, and beholding from afar the walls, lofty towers, and winding bays of Troy, lo, suddenly, the ground seemed to be shaken with the tread of feet. I speak the truth; yet scarcely will it be able to gain the credit due to truth. The grandson of great Atlas and Pleione, borne through the air on nimble wings, stood before my eyes. As I was permitted to see, so may it be allowed me to relate what I have seen. The God stood, and in his sacred hand was a golden rod: three Goddesses too, Venus, Juno, and Pallas, gently pressed the grass with their tender feet. I stood amazed, and a chilling horror raised my hair in bristles; when the winged messenger thus addressed me: "Banish fear; you are appointed the judge of beauty; settle therefore the contests of the Goddesses, and name one who must claim the prize of beauty from the other two." And, that I might not decline the task, he laid his commands upon me in the name of Jupiter, and then mounted aloft through the aerial way. My mind seemed to gather

strength, and I was conscious of an unusual boldness; nor did I fear to fix my eyes upon each of them with attention. They all seemed worthy of the victory; and I, their judge, was grieved to think, that all could not equally carry off the prize. yet even then there was one that pleased me more: insomuch, that it was easy to discover in her mien and air the Queen of Love. So strong was the contention for superiority, that they began to solicit my favor by bribes. The wife of Jove offered me a kingdom, Pallas prudence and valour, whilst I myself could not resolve to which to give the preference: but Venus, sweetly smiling, said, "Let not gifts like these, Paris, sway you; for both are full of fears and anxieties. I will give you to taste of the pleasures of love; and fair Leda's yet fairer daughter shall receive your fond caresses." Thus attractively she spoke; and, equally powerful by her gifts and beauty, returned to heaven with victorious pace.

In the mean time, (the Fates beginning to be now more propitious,) I am known by undoubted signs to be the son of royal Priam. The court is over-

joyed to recover a son who had so long been lost; and grateful Troy adds this day also to her festivals. And, as I now languish for you, so did the beauties of Troy for me: you alone reign over my heart, for which many sighed in vain. Nor was I only desired by the daughters of kings and heroes: I was also the darling and care of heaven-born Nymphs. But all these, Tyndaris, met with a return of cold disdain, when the hopes of your embrace had fired my breast. All the day fancy placed you before my eyes; at night too, when my eyes were sealed by gentle sleep, you stood before me in my dreams. What surprise then must your presence give, whose absent image so far occupied my thoughts? I was consumed with the flame, though it scorched at so great a distance. Nor was I able to restrain my ardent hopes from seeking the desired object through the blue ocean. The stately Trojan pines were cut down with a Phrygian axe, and every tree that was fittest to plough the yielding deep. The steep Gargarean summits were despoiled of their lofty woods; and spacious Ida furnished

me with the finest planks. Stiff oaks were bent to form the doubling hold, and the rising sides were knit with jointed ribs. Sails and sail-yards were added to the lofty masts; and the bending stern was adorned with painted Gods. On my own ship stood the Goddess, who promised to make me happy in your embraces; accompanied by her little son Cupid.