But, Phaon gone, those shades delight no more. Here the press'd herbs with bending tops betray Where oft entwined in amorous folds we lay; 170 I kiss that earth which once was press'd by you, And all with tears the withering herbs bedew. For thee the fading trees appear to mourn, And birds defer their songs till thy return: Night shades the groves, and all in silence lie, All but the mournful Philomel and I: With mournful Philomel I join my strain, Of Tereus she, of Phaon I complain. A spring there is, whose silver waters show, Clear as a glass, the shining sands below: 180 A flowery lotus spreads its arms above, Shades all the banks, and seems itself a grove; Eternal greens the mossy margin grace, Watch'd by the sylvan genius of the place. Here as I lay, and swell'd with tears the flood, Before my sight a watery virgin stood: She stood and cried, 'O 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 injured lovers, leaping from above, Their flames extinguish, and forget to love. Deucalion once with hopeless fury burn'd, In vain he loved, relentless Pyrrha scorn'd: But when from hence he plunged into the main, Deucalion scorn'd, and Pyrrha loved in vain. Haste, Sappho, haste, from high Leucadia throw Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below!' 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 ah, 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, 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 Phoebus' shrine my harp I'll then bestow, And this inscription shall be placed below: 'Here she who sung, to him that did inspire, Sappho to Phoebus consecrates her lyre; What suits with Sappho, Phoebus, suits with thee: The gift, the giver, and the god agree.'