The Poems of Sappho Part 8

Dost thou think by constant Proofs of lasting pa.s.sion, Slowly my obdurate Will to wear away?

Gorgo, I am weary Of thy love's insistence, And my strength exhausted Grants thy wish at last.

MNASIDICA

Set, O Dica, garlands on thy lovely Glinting ma.s.s of fine and golden tresses, Sprays of dill with fingers soft entwining While I stand apart to better judge.

Those who have fair wreaths about the forehead, Breathing brentheian odor to the senses, Ever first find favor with the Graces Who from wreathless suppliants turn away.

Dica, Mnasidica, thou art shapely With the flowing curves of Aphrodite; Eyes the color of her azure ocean Washing wide on Cyprus' languid sh.o.r.e.

In thy every movement grace unconscious Sways the rhythmic poem of thy body, Charming with elusive undulation Like a splendid lily in the wind.

As I stand apart to judge the better Fair effects that roses add to beauty, All thy rays of loveliness concentered Sun me till I swoon with swift desire.

TELESIPPA

Sleep thou in the bosom Of thy tender girl friend, Telesippa, gentle Maiden from Miletus.

Like twin petals shyly Closing to the darkness, Dewy on your drooping Lids shall fall her kisses.

While her arms enfold you, On your drowsy senses Shall her soft caresses Seal delicious languor.

Warm from her desireful Heart the flush of pa.s.sion On your cheek unconscious, With her sighs shall deepen.

All the long sweet night-time, Sleepless while you slumber, She shall lie and quiver With her love's mad longing.

GYRINNO

Now the silver crescent Of the moon has vanished, With the golden Pleiads Drifting down the west.

It is after midnight And the time is pa.s.sing, Hours we pledged to pa.s.sion And I sleep alone.

Anger ill becomes thee, Tender-souled Gyrinno, Shapelier is Dica But less loved by me.

Art thou still relentless, Wilful one, annulling All thy protestations In the fervid past?

Can it, O Charites, Be thou hast forgotten?

Dost thou love another, Even now, perchance?

Ah, my tears are falling, Yet in my despairing Mood I lie and listen For thy furtive step;

For the lightest rustle Of thy flowing garment, For thy sweet and panting Whisper at the door.

Now the moon has vanished With the golden Pleiads; It is after midnight And I sleep alone.

MEGARA

Thou burnest us, Megara, With thy pa.s.sions wild; Bringing from Panormus Such unbridled fires.

Thou burnest us, a supple Flow of tortured flame, Raging, biting, searing, Lawless of the will.

Thou burnest us, Megara, Love must know reserve, Curbing power to keep it Keener for restraint.

ERINNA

Haughtier than thou, O fair Erinna, I have never met with any maiden.

Such a careless scorn as thine for pa.s.sion Proves a dire affront to Aphrodite.

When with soft desire she wounds thy bosom, Thou shalt know love's pain and doubly suffer.

Keep the gifts I gave thee, long rejected; Fabrics for thy lap from far Phocea,

Babylonian unguents, scented sandals, And the costly mitra for thy tresses;

Tripods worked in bra.s.s to flank the altar With the ivory figure of the G.o.ddess;

Where the sacrificial fumes from sacred Flames shall rise to gladden and appease her,

In the hour when at her call thy fervid Breast and mouth to mine shall be relinquished.

GONGYLA

It was when the sunset Burned with saffron fire, And Apollo's coursers Turned below the hills,

That on Mitylene's Marble bridge we met, Gongyla, thou golden Maid of Colophon.

Like the breath of morning Or a breeze from sea, Fresh thy beauty smote me, Virile of the north.

Startled by thy vision, Transports half divine Flooded veins and bosom, Shook me with desire.

Soon the kinder sunglow Of aeolic lands Melted all the futile Snows about thy heart.

DAMOPHYLA

Cold of heart and strangely Uninclined to pa.s.sion, Wisdom's vigil leaves thee, Proud Damophyla.

Sapphics thou hast written, Verses in my metre, With a skill surpa.s.sing In the melic art.

Love's superb enchantment Thou art fain to banish, Like the virgin Huntress Long by thee adored.