ABSTRACT
A Spring there is, whose Silver Waters show, Clear as a Glass, the shining Sands below; 18o A flo\v'ry Lotos spreads its Arms above, Shades all the Banks, and seems it self a Grove; Eternal Greens the mossie Margin grace, Watch'd by the Sylvan Genius of the Place. Here as I lay, and swell'd with Tears the Flood, 185 Before my Sight a Watry Virgin stood, She stood and cry'd, '0 you that love in vain! Fly hence; and seek the fair Leucadian Main; There stands a Rock from whose impending Steep
Apollo's Fane surveys the rolling Deep; 190 There injur'd Lovers, leaping from above, Their Flames extinguish, and forget to love. Deucalion once with hopeless Fury burn'd, In vain he lov'd, relentless Pyrrha scom'd; But when from hence he plung'd into the Main, 195 Deucalion scorn'd, and Pyrrha lov'd in vain. Haste Sapho, haste from high Leucadia throw Thy wretched Weight, nor dread the Deeps below I' She spoke, and vanish'd with the Voice-I rise, And silent Tears fall trickling from my Eyes. 200 I go, ye Nymphs! those Rocks and Seas to prove; How much I fear, but ahf how much I love? I go, ye Nymphs! where furious Love inspires: Let Female Fears submit to Female Fires! To Rocks and Seas I fly from Phaon's Hate, 205 And hope from Seas and Rocks a milder Fate. Ye gentle Gales, beneath my Body blow, And softly lay me on the Waves below! And thou, kind Love, my sinking Limbs sustain, } Spread thy soft Wings, and waft me o'er the Main, 210 Nor let a Lover's Death the guiltless Flood profane! On Phrebus' Shrine my Harp I'll then bestow, And this Inscription shall be plac'd below. 'Here She who sung, to Him that did inspire, Sapho to Phrebus consecrates her Lyre, 215 What suits with Sapho, Phrebus, suits with thee; The Gift, the Giver, and the God agree.'
