THE DEATH OF SAPPHO. 57 



But should thy gentle spirit stoop, 



Perchance to hearts less worthy thine, 

 Enough if then one ruddy drop 



Distil from mine : 



To make thee, what thou'dst been, its wealth 



A glory circling round the whole 

 To give thee, while on earth, thy health, 

 To Heaven, a soul. 



No. XIII. 

 THE DEATH OF SAPPHO. 



" While morning yet flushes, 



Half mantled in gray, 

 Like a veil for thy blushes, 



Come away, come away : 

 Where the tall cape of lovers 



Is beetling afar, 

 Like a dark bird that hovers 



O'er the fallen in war; 

 And the steep, looking down on 



The sea as its slave, 

 From its crags seems to frown on 



The storm and the wave ; 

 There come with thy death chaunt 



As a swan to the sea; 

 There leap, and the fates grant 



That Sappho be free ! " 



Alone in her beauty 



She came forth and smiled, 

 But her eye like a sybil's 



Flashed haggard and wild : 

 As she struck the loud paean 



Tears fell on her lyre, 

 Though her brow seemed a Titan 



Dark rolling in fire. 

 Thus she stood at the altar, 



Thus lovely no less 

 She paused not to falter 



By that dreadful abyss. 

 One sigh for her lover, 



One smile on the sea 

 Look again ; all is over, 



And Sappho is free ! 



Eos. 



