The Poems of Sappho Part 5

Immortal Paphia! have I earned thy hate, That I should burn in pa.s.sion's fatal flame?

Is not my constant service thine to claim, My prayer's appeal with praise of thee elate?

Has not my life been one sole hymn of thee, One quivering chord on Love's harp overwrought?

My soul has trembled up to thee in thought, Probed to its depth thy every ecstasy.

Are not my countless heart-beats each a vow, Of tribute throbs a garland? For thy gain The Fates have drenched my soul in pa.s.sion's rain, Pieria's roses twined about my brow.

The virgin harvest of my heart was thine, I shuddered in the joy that half consumed; The votive garlands on thy altar bloomed, My days were songs to nights of bliss divine.

Why try me, then, with torture, gracious Queen?

Why verge me on this rapture's dread abyss, Hold breast from breast and stay the yearning kiss?

Ah, couldst thou fashion pain that stung less keen?

The throe of Tantalus is mine to bear, Beauty that Thetis-like eludes my clasp; Glances that lure, that make each breath a gasp, And then disdainful gloat at my despair.

Scornful she dwells beyond my ardor's clutch, Bathed in an aureole of carnal fire;-- O bind her equal slave to fond desire, Let pa.s.sion's tingling warmth her being touch!

Come to me, G.o.ddess, come as once of old, Hearing my voice implore thee from afar, I drew to earth thy dazzling avatar; Accord the smile of piercing bliss untold.

Ask me the dear suave question phrased of yore; "Sappho, who grieveth now thy mad fond heart?

Wouldst win her beauty, she who frowns apart?

Wild as thou lovest, she soon shall love thee more."

O fair Olympian, answer thus, I pray!

Release me from this torment, yield my arms The transport thirsted of her folded charms, In glow that welds her heart to mine for aye.

EROS

From the gnarled branches of the apple trees The heavy petals, lifted by the breeze, Fluttered on puffs of odor fine and fell In the clear water of the garden well;

And some a bolder zephyr blew in sport Across the marble reaches of my court, And some by sudden gusts were wafted wide Toward sea and city, down the mountain side.

Lesbos seemed Paphos, isled in rosy glow, Green olive hills, the violet vale below; The air was azure fire and o'er the blue Still sea the doves of Aphrodite flew.

My dreaming eyes saw Eros from afar Coming from heaven in his mother's car, In purple tunic clad; and at my heart The G.o.d was aiming his relentless dart.

He whom fair Aphrodite called her son, She, the adored, she, the imperial One; He pa.s.sed as winds that shake the soul, as pains Sweet to the heart, as fire that warms the veins;

He pa.s.sed and left my limbs dissolved in dew, Relaxed and faint, with pa.s.sion quivered through; Exhausted with spent thrills of dread delight, A sudden darkness rushing on my sight.

Pa.s.sION

Now Love shakes my soul, a mighty Wind from the high mountain falling Full on the oaks of the forest;

Now, limb-relaxing, it masters My life and implacable thrills me, Rending with anguish and rapture.

Now my heart, paining my bosom, Pants with desire as a maenad Mad for the orgiac revel.

Now under my skin run subtle Arrows of flame, and my body Quivers with surge of emotion.

Now long importunate yearnings Vanquish with surfeit my reason; Fainting my senses forsake me.

APHRODITE'S PRAISE

O Sappho, why art thou ever Singing with praises the blessed Queen of the heaven?

Why does the heart in thy bosom Ever revert in its yearning Throb to the G.o.ddess?

Why are thy senses unsated Ever in quest of elusive Love that is deathless?

Ah, gracious Daughter of Cyprus, Never can I as a mortal Tire of thy service.

Thou art the breath of my body, The blood in my veins, and the glowing Pulse of my bosom.

Omnipotent, burning, resistless, Thou art the pa.s.sion that shaking Masters me ever.

Thou art the crisis of rapture Relaxing my limbs, and the melting Ebb of emotion;

Bringing the tears to my lashes, Sighs to my lips, in the swooning Excess of pa.s.sion.

O golden-crowned Aphrodite, Grant I shall ever be grateful, Sure of thy favor;

Worthy the lot of thy priestess, Supreme in the song that forever Rings with thy praises.

THE FIRST KISS

And down I set the cushion Upon the couch that she, Relaxed supine upon it, Might give her lips to me.

As some enamored priestess At Aphrodite's shrine, Entranced I bent above her With sense of the divine.

She had, by nature nubile, In years a child, no hint Of any secret knowledge Of pa.s.sion's least intent.

Her mouth for immolation Was ripe, and mine the art; And one long kiss of pa.s.sion Deflowered her virgin heart.

ODE TO ATTHIS

I loved you, Atthis, once, long years ago!

My blood was flame that thrilled to pa.s.sion's throe; Now long neglect has quenched the olden fire, And blight of drifting years effaced desire.

I loved you, Atthis--joy of long ago-- Love shook my soul as winds on forests blow; This lawless heart that dared exhaust delight, Unsated strove and maddened through the night.

I loved you, Atthis, once, long years ago!

With pain whose surge I felt to anguish grow; Suffered the storms that waste the heart and leave A desert sh.o.r.e where seas but break to grieve.