Awake, my spirit! nor within me die! Ring out one anthem more !-one sad farewell! To pierce false PHAON's heart when I am gone!" And said—“ Thus have life, hope, love passed away.' III. Upon that melting scene, those glowing skies, For in her earlier years they held a spell Upon her lute, and she had of them sung Ere wrong, with ruthless hand her heart had wrung. To where young PHAON dwelt,-bright Sicily; "Yes, yes,-inconstant PHAON! thou art there Heedless of SAPPHO's love and lone despair. 9 I see thee in the grove-thy noble form Move on, a maiden hanging on thine arm, And drinking thy sweet words erst breathed to meForsake me, reason-thought-and memory I see thee in the gay Sicilian dance, Bending upon the fair thy tender glance; Where diamonds gleam, and dazzling beauty glows; Sad heart of mine, oh! wilt thou never break? A fearful antidote-but be it so ! And must I go ?-from thee no farewell sigh; No smile to cheer me in the hour of death ?— Oh! for some power swift as the lightning's breath, To catch my dying shriek as I depart, And ring it as a death-knell in thy heart. "And yet I would not chide thee, PHAON!-No! But I would wake thee to a sense of woe, When thou wert far away. May peace be thine! The quick and fevered pulse, the tears that blind, To leave the high abode they hold in heaven, IV. "PHAON, thou wert the fond reality Of my youth's cherished dream,--the phantasy The dayspring of my life-my Deity! That I might win thy heart, and make thee mine— A dream too pure, too heavenly, too divine For earth -I've toiled through long and weary years, In hours I stole from slumber-life's dull cares, And earned a laurel for my fading brow, Yes, I have swept my lyre through Lesbian isles, The proud have sought my hand,—the high of birth Have knelt to me, as I were not of earth: But these are nothing, since they fail to move Thy heart, and gain for me thy constant love. This was the die on which I staked my all, And I, alas! have lost, and perish in thy thrall. V. "And now, to thee, thou wild and mighty Sea! That in thy restless might dost round me roll, At eventide, from that LEUCADIAN height, On sea-weed beds to rest in slumbers sweet, The boundless main her tomb, the waves her winding sheet. THE FORSAKEN. IT hath been said-for all who die Some pining, bleeding heart to sigh But in that hour of pain and dread, Around my humble couch and shed Who watch life's last departing ray And soothe my spirit on its way What mourner round my bier will come And follow me to my long home Solemn and slow ? |