The Poems of Sappho Part 9

Molded by thy tunic, Every arching contour Of her chaste and n.o.ble Form I dream to see;

Even view her stepping From the leafy covert Down the dawn-white valley, Stately as a stag.

Long I sued but found thee Deaf to all entreaty, Till one summer twilight Listless in the heat;

Soothed by slumber's languor, And my low monodic Voice that hymned a paean In the praise of love;

Loth to yield yet vanquished, As I knelt beside thee, All thy long resistance To my kiss succ.u.mbed.

ANAGORA

Anagora, fairest Spoil of fateful battle, Babylonian temples Knew thy luring song.

Wrested from barbaric Captors for thy beauty, Thou wert made a priestess At Mylitta's shrine.

Once these flexile fingers Clasped in mine so closely, Neath the temple's arches Thrummed the tabor soft.

Thou hast taught me secrets Of the cryptic chambers, How the zonahs worship In the burning East;

Raptures that my wildest Dreaming never pictured, Arts of love that charmed me, Subtle, new and strange.

Hearken to my earnest Prayer, O Aphrodite!

May the night be doubled Now for our delight.

PHAON

PHILOMEL

Philomel in my garden, Messenger sweet of springtide, From the bough of the olive tree utter Tidings ecstatic.

Linger long on thy olden Note as in days remembered; Ere the Boatman that knew Aphrodite Ravished my vision.

Fatal glamor of beauty, Beauty of G.o.ds made mortal; Ah, before its delight I am ever Fearful of heaven.

Spring in breeze and the blossom, Gra.s.ses and leaves and odors, On my heart with the breath of a vanished April is shaken;

Shaken with thrill and regret of Lost caresses and kisses; Anactoria's memory, Atthis Never forgotten.

Philomel in my garden, Messenger sweet of springtide, From the bough of the olive tree utter Tidings ecstatic.

GOLDEN PULSE

Golden pulse grew on the sh.o.r.e, Ferns along the hill, And the red cliff roses bore Bees to drink their fill;

Bees that from the meadows bring Wine of melilot, Honey-sups on golden wing To the garden grot.

But to me, neglected flower, Phaon will not see, Pa.s.sion brings no crowning hour, Honey nor the bee.

THE SWALLOW

Daughter of Pandion, lovely Swallow that veers at my window, Swift on the flood of the sunshine Darting thy shadow;

What is thy innocent purpose, Why dost thou hover and haunt me?

Is it a kinship of sorrow Brings thee anear me?

Must thou forever be tongueless, Flying in fear of Tereus?

Must he for Itys pursue thee, Changed to a lapwing?

Tireless of pinion and never Resting on bush or the branches, Close to the earth, up the azure, Over the treetops;

After thy wing in its madness Follows my glance, as a flitting Child on the track of its mother Hastens in silence.

Daughter of Pandion, lovely Swallow that veers at my window, Hast thou a message from Cyprus Telling of Phaon?

TIDINGS

She wrapped herself in linen woven close, Stuffs delicate and texture-fine as those The dark Nile traders for our bartering From Egypt, Crete and far Phocea bring.

Love lent her feet the wings of winds to reach (Whose steps stir not the shingle of the beach) My marble court and, breathless, bid me know My lover's sails across the harbor blow.

He seemed to her, as to himself he seems, Like some bright G.o.d long treasured in her dreams; She saw him standing at his galley's prow-- My Phaon, mine, in Mitylene now!

HESPERUS

Hesperus shines Low on the eastern wave, Off toward the Asian sh.o.r.e;

Over faint lines Whose grays and purples pave Where seas night-calmed adore.

Fair vesper fire, Fairest of stars, the light Benign of secret bliss;

Star of desire, Bringing to me with night Dreams and my Phaon's kiss.

DAWN

Just now the golden-sandalled Dawn Peered through the lattice of my room; Why must thou fare so soon, my Phaon?

Last night I met thee at the sh.o.r.e, A thousand hues were in the sky; The breeze from Cyprus blew, my Phaon!