William Morris, a fine classical scholar, as shown in his _Life and Death of Jason_, in _The Earthly Paradise_ (1868-1871), expands in a very readable form the story of the Egyptian courtesan, Rhodopis, whom Sappho’s brother, Charaxus, ransomed. About the same time (1870) Rossetti made the combination of two fragments which we have mentioned above (p. 93). Some tell us that Oscar Wilde’s heart goes out to Sappho, but so far as I have read I have not been able to find in him any trace of the real Sappho.[178a] On the other hand, Tennyson and Swinburne read her fragments over and over. Tennyson, who thought the Sapphics of Horace to be “much inferior to those of Sappho,” beautifully paraphrases the second ode in _Eleänore_ (1832). In the original edition of _Fatima_ (Dec. 1832), published under the title _O Love, Love, Love_, he prefixed the first line of this ode as a motto. Many as are the echoes of the sweet-bitter, bitter-sweet antithesis of Sappho (E. 81, above, p. 57) in Wharton and other critics, it seems strange that perhaps the most beautiful and deep-hearted of all, Elaine’s song in Tennyson’s Idyl is never cited, so far as I know.[180] Love, art thou sweet? then bitter death must be: Love, thou art bitter; sweet is death to me. O Love, if death be sweeter, let me die. Tennyson echoes the third fragment, as we have seen (p. 63); and he re-echoes through Horace another fragment in his _Epilogue_ (p. 36). In _Fatima_, “Love, O withering might” suggests another fragment. In _Leonine Elegiacs_ we have a better adaptation than in Byron of the Hesperus hymn: The ancient poetess singeth, that Hesperus all things bringeth, Smoothing the wearied mind: bring me my love, Rosalind. In _Locksley Hall Sixty Years After_ he again uses the same Sapphic fragment: “Hesper, whom the poet call’d the Bringer home of all good things.” His brother, Frederick Tennyson, who was such a good Greek scholar that he won the medal at Trinity College for a Greek poem, in his _Isles of Greece_ (1890) used several adaptations and translations of Sappho, the prettiest being those about Sappho’s child Cleïs, about Hesper and the summer noonday siesta by the cool waters. Many writers of lyrics in England and Scotland have thought of Sappho, but generally of the Phaon story, as recently did Thomas McKie in his _Lyric on Love_:[181] Bewildered with her love and grief, From lone Leucadia’s stormy steep Distracted Sappho sought relief, By plunging in the whelming deep. The deep that closed upon her woes Not half so wild, impetuous flows. Swinburne is one of Sappho’s greatest admirers, and we have quoted some of his praises among the appreciations of Sappho (p. 11). We have cited Noyes’ appreciation of Swinburne’s love of Sappho, and here are Thomas Hardy’s interesting lines to Swinburne: