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THE LAST HOUR OF SAPPHO.

THE PROMONTORY OF LETJCADIA.

"This is the spot;—'tis here, tradition says,
That hopeless love from tills hi^h towering ntck
Leaped headlong to oMivion, or to death.
Oh, 'tis a giddy height! n.T'lliij tuad
Swims at the precipice!—'tis death to fall."

I.

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;

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