Argument.

To leap from the promontory of LEUCADIA was believed by the Greeks to be a remedy for hopeless love, if the self-devoted victim escaped with life. Artemisia lost her life in the dangerous experiment: and Sappho is said thus to have perished, in attempting to cure her passion for Phaon.

(Scene the promontory of Leucadia.)

  This is the spot:—'tis here Tradition says

  That hopeless Love from this high towering rock

  Leaps headlong to Oblivion or to Death.

  Oh 'tis a giddy height! my dizzy head

  Swims at the precipice—'tis death to fall!

  Lie still, thou coward heart! this is no time

  To shake with thy strong throbs the frame convuls'd.

  To die,—to be at rest—oh pleasant thought!

  Perchance to leap and live; the soul all still,

  And the wild tempest of the passions husht

  In one deep calm; the heart, no more diseas'd

  By the quick ague fits of hope and fear,

  Quietly cold!

                 Presiding Powers look down!

  In vain to you I pour'd my earnest prayers,

  In vain I sung your praises: chiefly thou

  VENUS! ungrateful Goddess, whom my lyre

  Hymn'd with such full devotion! Lesbian groves,

  Witness how often at the languid hour

  Of summer twilight, to the melting song

  Ye gave your choral echoes! Grecian Maids

  Who hear with downcast look and flushing cheek

  That lay of love bear witness! and ye Youths,

  Who hang enraptur'd on the empassion'd strain

  Gazing with eloquent eye, even till the heart

  Sinks in the deep delirium! and ye too

  Shall witness, unborn Ages! to that song

  Of warmest zeal; ah witness ye, how hard,

  Her fate who hymn'd the votive hymn in vain!

  Ungrateful Goddess! I have hung my lute

  In yonder holy pile: my hand no more

  Shall wake the melodies that fail'd to move

  The heart of Phaon—yet when Rumour tells

  How from Leucadia Sappho hurl'd her down

  A self-devoted victim—he may melt

  Too late in pity, obstinate to love.

  Oh haunt his midnight dreams, black NEMESIS!

  Whom,[1] self-conceiving in the inmost depths

  Of CHAOS, blackest NIGHT long-labouring bore,

  When the stern DESTINIES, her elder brood.

  And shapeless DEATH, from that more monstrous birth

  Leapt shuddering! haunt his slumbers, Nemesis,

  Scorch with the fires of Phlegethon his heart,

  Till helpless, hopeless, heaven-abandon'd wretch

  He too shall seek beneath the unfathom'd deep

  To hide him from thy fury.

                              How the sea

  Far distant glitters as the sun-beams smile,

  And gayly wanton o'er its heaving breast

  Phoebus shines forth, nor wears one cloud to mourn

  His votary's sorrows! God of Day shine on—

  By Man despis'd, forsaken by the Gods,

  I supplicate no more.

                           How many a day,

  O pleasant Lesbos! in thy secret streams

  Delighted have I plung'd, from the hot sun

  Screen'd by the o'er-arching groves delightful shade,

  And pillowed on the waters: now the waves

  Shall chill me to repose.

                             Tremendous height!

  Scarce to the brink will these rebellious limbs

  Support me. Hark! how the rude deep below

  Roars round the rugged base, as if it called

  Its long-reluctant victim! I will come.

  One leap, and all is over! The deep rest

  Of Death, or tranquil Apathy's dead calm

  Welcome alike to me. Away vain fears!

  Phaon is cold, and why should Sappho live?

  Phaon is cold, or with some fairer one—

  Thought worse than death!

(She throws herself from the precipice.)

[Footnote A: [Greek (transliterated)]:

  Ou tini choimaetheisa thea teche NUTH erezennae. HESIOD]