THE EPISTLES.

EPISTLE S.

[TRANSLATED BY POPE.]

SAPPHO TO PHA ON.

THE poetess Sappho, forsaken by her lover Phaon, who was gone from Lesbos to Sicily, and resolved, in despair, to drown herself, writes this letter to him before she dies.

SAY, lovely youth, that dost my heart command, ' Can Phaon's eyes forget his Sappho's hand? Must then her name the wretched writer prove? To thy remembrance lost, as to thy love! Ask not the cause that I new numbers choose, The lute neglected, and the lyric muse; Love taught my tears in sadder notes to flow, And tuned my heart to elegies of wo.

I burn, I burn, as when through ripen'd corn

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By driving winds the spreading flames are borne! 10
Phaon to Etna's scorching fields retires!
While I consume with more than Etna's fires!
No more my soul a charm in music finds;

Music has charms alone for peaceful minds:
Soft scenes of solitude no more can please;
Love enters there, and I'm my own disease:
No more the Lesbian dames my passion move,
Once the dear objects of my tender love;
All other loves are lost in only thine,
Ah youth, ungrateful to a flame like mine!

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Whom would not all those blooming charms surprise,
Those heavenly looks, and dear deluding eyes?
The harp and bow would you like Phoebus bear;
A brighter Phoebus Phaon might appear

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Would you with ivy wreathe your flowing hair, 25
Not Bacchus self with Phaon could compare :
Yet Phoebus loved, and Bacchus felt the flame;
One Daphne warm'd, and one the Cretan dame:
Nymphs that in verse no more could rival me,
Than ev'n those gods contend in charms with thee.
The muses teach me all their softest lays,
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And the wide world resounds with Sappho's praise.
Though great Alcæus more sublimely sings,
And strikes with bolder rage the sounding strings,
No less renown attends the moving lyre,
Which Cupid tunes, and Venus does inspire.
To me what nature has in charms denied
Is well by wit's more lasting charms supplied..
Though short my stature, yet my name extends
To heaven itself, and earth's remotest ends.
Brown as I am, an Ethiopian dame
Inspired young Perseus with a generous flame.
Turtles and doves of differing hues unite,
And glossy jet is pair'd with shining white.
If to no charms thou wilt thy heart resign,
But such as merit, such as equal thine,
But none, alas! by none thou canst be moved,
Phaon alone by Phaon must be loved!
Yet once thy Sappho could thy cares employ,
Once in her arms you centred all your joy:
Still all those joys to my remembrance move,
For oh! how vast a memory has love?
My music, then, you could for ever hear,
And all my words were music to your ear.

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You stopp'd with kisses my enchanting tongue, 55
And found my kisses sweeter than my song.
The fair Sicilians now thy soul inflame;
Why was I born, ye gods, a Lesbian dame?
But ah, beware, Sicilian nymphs! nor boast
That wandering heart which I so lately lost;
Nor be with all those tempting words abused;
Those tempting words were all to Sappho used.

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