The Poems of Sappho Part 3

Pale death shall come, and thou and thine shall be, Then and thereafter, to all memory Forgotten as the wind that yesterday Blew the last lingering apple buds away;

For thou hadst never that undying rose To grace the brow and shed immortal glows; Pieria's fadeless flower that few may claim To wreathe and save thy unremembered name.

Ay! even on the fields of Dis unknown, Obscure among the shadows and alone, Thy flitting shade shall pa.s.s uncomforted Of any heed from all the flitting dead.

But no one maid, I think, beneath the skies, At any time shall live and be as wise, In sooth, as I am; for the Muses Nine Have made me honored and their gifts are mine;

And men, I think, will never quite forget My songs or me; so long as stars shall set Or sun shall rise, or hearts feel love's desire, My voice shall cross their dreams, a sigh of fire.

LAMENT FOR ADONIS

Ah, for Adonis!

See, he is dying, Delicate, lovely, Slender Adonis.

Ah, for Adonis!

Weep, O ye maidens, Beating your bosoms, Rending your tunics.

O Cytherea, Hasten, for never Loved thou another As thy Adonis.

See, on the rosy Cheek with its dimple, Blus.h.i.+ng no longer, Thanatos' shadow.

Save him, O G.o.ddess!

Thou, the beguiler, All-powerful, holy, Stay the dread evil.

Ah, for Adonis!

No more at vintage Time will he come with Bloom of the meadows.

Ah, for Adonis!

See, he is dying, Fading as flowers With the lost summer.

THE STRICKEN FLOWER

Think not to ever look as once of yore, Atthis, upon my love; for thou no more Wilt find intact upon its stem the flower Thy guile left slain and bleeding in that hour.

So ruthless shepherds crush beneath their feet The hill flower blooming in the summer heat; The hyacinth whose purple heart is found Left bruised and dead, to darken on the ground.

DEATH

Death is an evil; so the G.o.ds decree, So they have judged, and such must rightly be Our mortal view; for they who dwell on high Had never lived, had it been good to die.

And so the poet's house should never know Of tears and lamentations any show; Such things befit not us who deathless sing Of love and beauty, gladness and the spring.

No hint of grief should mar the features of Our dreams of endless beauty, lasting love; For they reflect the joy inviolate, Eternal calm that fronts whatever fate.

Cleis, my darling, grieve no more, I pray!

Let wandering winds thy sorrow bear away, And all our care; my daughter, let thy smile s.h.i.+ne through thy tears and gladden me the while.

PERSEPHONE

I saw a tender maiden plucking flowers Once, long ago, in the bright morning hours; And then from heaven I saw a sudden cloud Fall swift and dark, and heard her cry aloud.

Again I looked, but from my open door My anxious eyes espied the maid no more; The cloud had vanished, bearing her away To underlands beyond the smiling day.

PARTHENEIA

DIDAKTIKA

MAIDENHOOD

Do I long for maidenhood?

Do I long for days When upon the mountain slope I would stand and gaze Over the aegean's blue Melting into mist, Ere with love my virgin lips Cercolas had kissed?

Maidenhood, O maidenhood, Whither hast thou flown?

_To a land beyond the sea_ _Thou hast never known._ Maidenhood, O maidenhood, Wilt return to me?

_Never will my bloom again_ _Give its grace to thee._

Now the autumn skies are low, Youth and summer sped; Shepherd hills are far away, Cercolas is dead.

Mitylene's marble courts Echo with my name;-- Maidenhood, we never dreamed, Long ago of fame.

EVER MAIDEN

I shall be ever maiden, Ever the little child, In my pa.s.sionate quest for the lovely, By earth's glad wonder beguiled.

I shall be ever maiden, Standing in soul apart, For the G.o.ds give the secret of beauty Alone to the virgin heart.

CLeIS

Daughter of mine, so fair, With a form like a golden flower, Wherefore thy pensive air And the dreams in the myrtle bower?

Cleis, beloved, thy eyes That are turned from my gaze, thy hand That trembles so, I prize More than all the Lydian land;

More than the lovely hills With the Lesbian olive crowned;-- Tell me, darling, what ills In the gloom of thy thought are found?

Daughter of mine, come near And thy head on my knees recline; Whisper and never fear, For the beat of thy heart is mine.

Sweet mother, I can turn With content to my loom no more; My bosom throbs, I yearn For a youth that my eyes adore;

Lykas of Eresus, Whom I knew when a little child; My heart by Love is thus With the sweetest of pain beguiled.