The sun was sinking from soft Hella’s shore, Yet lingering still, as if he loved to pour His beams o’er towers and temples then sublime, But mouldering now beneath the tooth of Time; To kiss the sloping hills, and myrtle boughs, And flowers, and streams, and Lesbian maiden’s brows, As they were warbling ’long the sultry vale Like blithesome birds, or lisping some love tale: Slowly he sunk, while far the deep waves rolled Beneath his fiery track, like molten gold; The spire, and minaret from the distant dome, And castle hoar, and fane, and royal home; The olive grove, the dark majestic palm, The cypress sadd’ning in the pensive calm, And in the liquid distance many an isle Gleamed in his yellow beams and parting smile; And there the lowing herds adown the hill Were winding to their homes by glade and rill; The weary peasants by their cabin door To their shrill pipes their simple idyls pour; Maidens reclining ’neath the spreading trees, Bathe their dark brows in the refreshing breeze, Send their wild mirth along the vales afar, And greet with glowing eyes the evening star— O, who would deem at such soft twilight time Sorrow could rear her throne in that delightful clime. II. High on Leucadia’s famed and jutting rock, Whose rugged base doth scorn the fearful shock Of ocean’s waves, half-veiled in evening shade, Sat Lesbian Sappho all for death arrayed: Around her beauteous form her tunic flung, And her dark tresses long and flowing hung Down to the rock, steeped in the briny dew, And gently waving as the breezes blew Along the lea. One small hand held her lute, The other rested on its strings all mute As they had never breathed one thrilling song Of fervent love, or anguish cherished long. Her swollen eyes, dejected, had not wept, Though her past life in one dark tissue swept Before her now—“I would sing one song more— One wild, undying strain, ere life be o’er; And I would gather in this latest theme My sufferings—my heart’s benighted dream, This fierce, consuming flame that racks my soul, So that when Phaon glances o’er the scroll I leave, my fate may flash upon his heart Swift as from clouds the long pent lightnings start:— Awake, my soul! nor yet within me die! Draw back the veil from thy deep agony; And chant but one song more—one sad farewell To love and life:—oh! breathe in it thy knell! Thy requiem—a dagger make each tone— To pierce false Phaon’s heart when I am gone!”