« FöregåendeFortsätt »
THE LAST HOUR OF SAPPHO.
THE PROMONTORY OF LETJCADIA.
"This is the spot;—'tis here, tradition says,
The sun was sinking from soft Hellas' shore,
Yet lingering still, as if he loved to pour
His beams o'er towers and temples then sublime,
But mouldering now beneath the tooth of Time;
To kiss the sloping hills, and myrtle boughs,
And flowers, and streams, and Lesbian maidens' brows,
As they were warbling 'long the sultry vale
Like blithesome birds, or lisping some love tale:
Slowly he sank, while far the deep waves rolled
Beneath his fiery track like molten gold;