On his wings would I soar up to fame : My breast with his torch, In my wit too he kindle a flame. RECITATIVE, Trophies to Chastity let others raise, In notes as cold as the dull thing they praise: Το rage like mine more sprightly themes belong: Gay youth inspires, and beauty claims my song; Me all the little Loves and Graces own; For I was born to worship them alone. AIR. Tell not me the joys that wait On him that's rich, on him that's great : Cares surround the rich and wise. Bring me women, bring me wine; And mind not what the grave ones say; Speed and gild them as they fly With love and freedom, wit and joy Give 'em to the fools I hate. ODE XXII. THE PASSION OF SAPPHO. BY MR. HARRISON. HAIL, sacred Muse, and vocal shell, Pleasing tyrant, soft destroyer, Do not thus my heart control; Ever raging, Past assuaging, Love possesses all my soul. Beneath this sad and silent gloom A youth so shap'd, with such a mien, To shame, remorse, and death betray'd, What Power, what God can send relief? Sicilian virgins, shun the arts Whence my misfortunes rise: I dream, or in some rival's arms, I behold the perjur'd boy : Anguish waste, Lightning blast, Heaven forsake her, Hell o'ertake her, Ere she tastes the rising joy! Ode XXII. ODES. CT TH NIV No; let her triumph, let her prize The faithless wretch, whom I despise ; I'll reap the sweet of liberty. Mighty hero, could you leave me ? Had thy love one moment lasted, Ever changing, Gay and airy, Form'd to vary; 1, to pain you, Will disdain you, Resentment, pride, and glowing shame, 103 Shall Sappho, like a helpless maid, Pine to death, of death afraid? I've tried all female arts in vain, Dissembled scorn and false disdain; For oh! with real grief opprest, I burn, and tempests shake my breast. O what torments wound my heart! Gentle Death, in pity take me, And perform thy grateful duty : Since my Phaon does forsake me, To thy arms I yield my beauty, Kinder then than Cupid's dart. |