‘See, if now she flies, she soon must follow; Yes, if spurning gifts, she soon must offer; Yes, if loving not, she soon must love thee, Howso unwilling....’ Come again to me! O now! Release me! End the great pang! And all my heart desireth Now of fulfilment, fulfil! O Aphrodite, Fight by my shoulder! (W. E. LEONARD, unpublished) Richly throned, O deathless one, Aphrodite, Child of Zeus, enchantress-queen, I beseech thee Let not grief nor harrowing anguish master, Lady, my spirit. Ah! come hither. Erstwhile indeed thou heardest When afar my sorrowful cry of mourning Smote thine ears, and then from thy father’s mansions Golden thou camest, Driving forth thy chariot, and fair birds bore thee Speeding onward over the earth’s dark shadows, Waving oft their shimmering plumes thro’ heaven’s Ether encircling. Quickly drew they nigh me, and thou, blest presence, Sweetest smile divine on thy face immortal, Thou didst seek what sorrow was mine to suffer, Wherefore I called thee. What my soul, too, craved with intensest yearning, Frenzy’s fire enkindling. ‘Now whom,’ thou criest, ‘Wouldst thou fain see led to thy love, or who, my Sappho, would wrong thee?’ ‘Though she flees thee now, yet she soon shall woo thee, Though thy gifts she scorneth, she soon shall bring gifts; Though she loves thee not, yet she soon shall love thee, Yea, though unwilling.’ Come, ah! come again, and from bitter anguish Free thy servant. All that my heart is craving, That fulfil, O goddess. Thyself, my champion, Aid in this conflict. (H. RUSHTON FAIRCLOUGH) The second ode, quoted in a mutilated condition by the treatise _On the Sublime_, is even more difficult to translate. As Wordsworth says, here the Lesbian Maid With finest touch of passion swayed Her own Aeolian lute.