THE THE LAST HOUR OF SAPPHO. PROMONTORY OF LEUCA DIA. "This is the spot;-'tis here, tradition says, That hopeless love from this high towering rock Leaped headlong to oblivion, or to death. Oh, 'tis a giddy height! my dizzy koad Swims at the precipice!-'tis death to fall." I. THE sun was sinking from soft Hellas' shore, And flowers, and streams, and Lesbian maidens' brows, As they were warbling 'long the sultry vale Like blithesome birds, or lisping some love tale: |