Surely somehow, in some measure, There will be joy and fulfilment,-- Cease from this throb of desire,-- Even for Sappho!

Surely some fortunate hour 5 Phaon will come, and his beauty Be spent like water to plenish Need of that beauty!

Where is the breath of Poseidon, Cool from the sea-floor with evening? 10 Why are Selene's white horses So long arriving?

XLIV

O but my delicate lover, Is she not fair as the moonlight?

Is she not supple and strong For hurried pa.s.sion?

Has not the G.o.d of the green world, 5 In his large tolerant wisdom, Filled with the ardours of earth Her twenty summers?

Well did he make her for loving; Well did he mould her for beauty; 10 Gave her the wish that is brave With understanding.

"O Pan, avert from this maiden Sorrow, misfortune, bereavement, Harm, and unhappy regret," 15 Prays one fond mortal.

XLV

Softer than the hill-fog to the forest Are the loving hands of my dear lover, When she sleeps beside me in the starlight And her beauty drenches me with rest.

As the quiet mist enfolds the beech-trees, 5 Even as she dreams her arms enfold me, Half awaking with a hundred kisses On the scarlet lily of her mouth.

XLVI

I seek and desire, Even as the wind That travels the plain And stirs in the bloom Of the apple-tree. 5

I wander through life, With the searching mind That is never at rest, Till I reach the shade Of my lover's door. 10

XLVII

Like torn sea-kelp in the drift Of the great tides of the sea, Carried past the harbour-mouth To the deep beyond return,

I am buoyed and borne away 5 On the loveliness of earth, Little caring, save for thee, Past the portals of the night.

XLVIII

Fine woven purple linen I bring thee from Phocaea, That, beauty upon beauty, A precious gift may cover The lap where I have lain. 5

And a gold comb, and girdle, And trinkets of white silver, And gems are in my sea-chest, Lest poor and empty-handed Thy lover should return. 10

And I have brought from Tyre A Pan-flute stained vermilion, Wherein the G.o.ds have hidden Love and desire and longing, Which I shall loose for thee. 15

XLIX

When I am home from travel, My eager foot will stay not Until I reach the threshold Where I went forth from thee.

And there, as darkness gathers 5 In the rose-scented garden, The G.o.d who prospers music Shall give me skill to play.

And thou shalt hear, all startled, A flute blown in the twilight, 10 With the soft pleading magic The green wood heard of old.

Then, lamp in hand, thy beauty In the rose-marble entry!

And unreluctant Hermes 15 Shall give me words to say.

L

When I behold the pharos shine And lay a path along the sea, How gladly I shall feel the spray, Standing upon the swinging prow;

And question of my pilot old, 5 How many watery leagues to sail Ere we shall round the harbour reef And anchor off the wharves of home!

LI

Is the day long, O Lesbian maiden, And the night endless In thy lone chamber In Mitylene? 5

All the bright day, Until welcome evening When the stars kindle Over the harbour, What tasks employ thee? 10

Pa.s.sing the fountain At golden sundown, One of the home-going Traffickers, hast thou Thought of thy lover? 15