812 
 N 83s 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2017 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates 
 
 https://archive.org/details/sapphoclassicohiOOnort 
 
Copyright, 1891, 1894, by Edgar S. Werner. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
'■res- 1=5 Nov. W 
 
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 )Sico-3(istorical * 3? lay * for * Si rh 
 
 By JESSIE NORTON. 
 
 + Sla 
 
 Historical Facts. 
 
 A BOUT l)00 B.C., Sappho, a Grecian widow, founded 
 a school of poetry on the Island of Lesbos. Her 
 fame spread throughout Greece. She gathered around 
 her many brilliant women, among whom were Damo- 
 phyla, known by her hymn to Artemis, and Erinna, 
 who died broken-hearted when compelled to leave the 
 literary delights of Lesbos for the drudgery of spin- 
 ning in her Rhodan home. Tradition says that Sappho 
 loved Pliaon, a Lesbian youth, who did not return her 
 love, and for whom she threw herself from the far- 
 famed “ Lover’s Leap,” thus perishing. 
 
 Dramatis Personae. 
 
 Sappho, the Lesbian poetess. 
 Damophyla, one of Sappho’s pupils. 
 Erinna, one of Sappho’s pupils. 
 Phaon, a Lesbian youth. 
 Attendants. 
 
 Costumes, Stage-Setting’s, Etc. 
 
 The costumes of Sappho, Damophyla and Erinna 
 should be of soft Grecian draperies with borders. 
 White with a gold border is very effective, although 
 any delicate color may be used. 
 
 Phaon should wear scarlet and gold embroidered 
 drapery, leaving the left arm exposed. Sandals and 
 flesh-colored stockings cover the feet of everybody. 
 
 The Attendants’ garments are equal to the other 
 costumes in grace of drapery, but without borders. 
 
 The hair of the ladies should ,be softly wavy, and 
 bound in a knot at the back of the head. Pearls, gold 
 braid, or ribbons may be used for ornamentation. 
 Pliaon's hair should be short and curly. 
 
 For Scenes I., II., and IV., the stage may be arranged 
 with statuary, Grecian vases, flowers, a backless couch 
 piled with cushions, a chair having no back but with 
 rests for the arms on the sides, and low stools. White 
 fur rugs may be strewn here and there on the floor. 
 The walls should be hung with some soft material, and 
 a Grecian figure should go around the walls as a dado. 
 This can be made of gilt paper. A statue or bust of 
 Artemis, the Roman Diana, is necessary. The flat 
 antique lamp holding burning incense, which an At- 
 
 tendant brings in in Scene II., may be placed on the 
 pedestal, or a draped table serving as an altar. 
 
 Three Attendants are needed. They appear through- 
 out the play in positions as graceful as possible. One 
 may fan Sappho with a peacock-feather fan, another 
 may crouch at the foot of her couch, while a third may 
 show in the visitors. 
 
 In Scene III. the walls should be covered with sombre 
 drapery, and the stage clear of all things save a spin- 
 ning-wheel and stool. A gauze or mosquito-net curtain 
 should be stretched across the back of the stage, be- 
 hind which the Ghost may appear. The Ghost should 
 be dressed in white gauzy material. Her face need 
 not be covered, as the net curtain and low lights ren- 
 der her sufficiently spirit-like. Blue lights should be 
 turned on as she appears. 
 
 If the dialogue between Erinna and the Spirit is 
 found too difficult, a pantomime may be substituted, 
 expressing, on Erinna’s part, surprise, recognition, en- 
 treaty, breathless attention and, as the Spirit passes 
 out, death; on the Spirit’s part, recognition, blessing, 
 guidance to heaven. The Spirit passes out pointing to 
 heaven, leaving Erinna prostrate. This affords excel- 
 lent opportunity for a display of Delsarte principles. 
 
 <s) 
 
 09 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 [At Lesbos. Sappho reclining in her home 
 amid flowers and attendants. Erinna is 
 led forward.] 
 
 Sappho. Sweet maid, with laughing, violet 
 eyes 
 
 Reflecting here Rhodes' azure skies, 
 
 Draw near, nor tremble that you come 
 To this, the sacred Muses’ home. 
 
 Erinna. Oh, blazing Star of Lesbian song. 
 
 O Sappho, known by praises long, 
 
 Do I at last behold your grace ? 
 
 And see at last your longed-for face ? 
 
 A simple maiden here I stand, 
 
 A stranger from a far off land, 
 
 Attracted to this far-famed strand 
 By your white, beckoning, poet hand. 
 
 Oh, here beside you let me stay, 
 
 Most glorious lady, say not “nay.” 
 
 Oh, let me add my feeble light 
 To your great constellation bright. 
 
 Sappho. Sweet maid, I pray you calm your 
 fears, 
 
 Nor let your eyes grow dim with tears. 
 
 No haughty, distant star am I, 
 High-stationed in an unknown sky — 
 
 A woman only, with a heart 
 As prone as yours with pain to smart, 
 
 As prone as yours with joy to start. 
 
 So here beside me sweetly rest, 
 
 And ease with words your throbbing breast; 
 
 As to a loving sister tell 
 
 What fountain-thoughts within you well. 
 
 Erinna. O kindest one, by poets sung, 
 
 Of noble parents I am sprung. 
 
 My mother perished at my birth ; 
 
 My father since has scorned all mirth, 
 
 And mourns with deep and deeper grief 
 For love and happiness too brief. 
 
 No guidance kind I ever knew; 
 
 Neglected and unloved I grew. 
 
 But as the winged seasons sped, 
 
 And years passed o’er my childish head, 
 There grew and grew a constant pain, 
 
 Nor ceased with sunshine nor with rain — 
 
 A wish for joys to me unknown. 
 
 And so one day I made my moan 
 Before my father ; lowly prayed 
 To seek afar your kindly aid." 
 
 With sternest “No,” and frowning gloom, 
 He set me tasks at wheel and loom. 
 
 But ever in my breast a spark 
 Of hope, though dim, dispelled the dark ; 
 And ever and anon it woke 
 Into a flame, and then I spoke 
 Again before my dreaded sire, 
 
 Who ever quenched the wayward fire. 
 
 At last, when hope was nearly spent, 
 
 He, grudging, gave a slow consent ; 
 
 Perhaps grown weary of my tears, 
 
 Perhaps from hidden father-fears, 
 
 For oh, great Sappho, well I knew 
 That I had lost health’s rosy hue. 
 
 So I have dared for help to come 
 To this, your far-famed poet’s home ; 
 
 So I have dared in my great need 
 Before you here my cause to plead. 
 
 Sweet Sappho, send me not away; 
 
 Oh, kindly say that I may stay. 
 
 Sappho. I grant the boon for which you pray. 
 
 Fair maiden, Sappho answers, “ Stay.” 
 
 Erinna. Great, kindest lady, let me kneel ! 
 
 I cannot tell the joy I feel ! 
 
 My star more bright than stars above, 
 
 For this I give my whole heart’s love. 
 
 If I for you should spill my blood, 
 
 ’Twould not express my gratitude. 
 
 Sappho. Nay, rise, dear maiden. Say not so. 
 'Tis little that to me you owe. 
 
 But to your own soul all in all; 
 
 Too great to bide the stinging thrall 
 That weighed you down ; for far and wide, 
 In every land, on every tide, 
 
 Where’er is found the human race, 
 
 The woman holds th’ inferior place. 
 
 ’Tis mail’s the awful depths to sound 
 Which in the soul and mind are found; 
 
 ’Tis woman’s but his babe to tend, 
 
 And gentle ministries to lend. 
 
 ’Tis man’s to thread the mystic maze 
 Of number’s many- winding ways; 
 
 ’Tis woman’s but to watch and wait 
 For his returning at the gate. 
 
 ’Tis man’s to mount on poet’s wing, 
 
 And from the distant skies to sing ; 
 
 ’Tis woman’s but to watch and sigh, 
 
 The board to All, the needle ply. 
 
 Tis man’s ’mid mighty deeds to fall 
 For country’s sake, bewailed by all; 
 
 ’Tis woman’s for her lord to weep, 
 
 Then all unnoticed pass in sleep. 
 
 He is a thing of strength and power, 
 
 She but the plaything of an hour. 
 
 I dreamed my dream. I struck my stroke. 
 My die I cast. My chains I broke. 
 
ERINNA. 
 
 SAPPHO. 
 
 DAMOPHYLA. 
 
SAPPHO. 
 
 And here in freedom’s light I stand— 
 
 A woman— free— on Lesbos’ strand! 
 
 I know they think of me with scorn, 
 
 And maidens blush like rosy morn 
 To hear my name; but not a throe 
 Can I e’er feel— no throb of woe ; 
 
 For yonder arching heavens know 
 That I am pure as spotless snow. 
 
 Erinna. No! No! No! surely never blame 
 Attaches to your honored name! 
 
 Sappho. And so your trusting eyes mistook 
 The double word, the meaning look! 
 
 Ah ! happy, happy have you been, 
 
 Too innocent to dream of sin. 
 
 But when its sick’ning, stern amaze 
 Shall burst upon your wond’ring gaze, 
 
 Dull care will rest upon your heart, 
 
 And never, nevermore depart. 
 
 Enough ! may you forever find 
 The heaven of a guiltless mind . 
 
 Oh, may a sweet, contented lot, 
 
 Be yours within this favored spot. 
 
 But see, Damophyla is near, 
 
 One of our school of poesy here. 
 
 [Enter Damophyla.] 
 
 Damophyla. Good morning. Sappho! Did a 
 lovelier day 
 
 E’er crown her head with sunshine’s golden 
 ray ? 
 
 Sappho. And did a sweeter breeze e’er waft a 
 bark 
 
 That bore to us a friend o’er waters dark ? 
 
 Damophyla [to Erinna]. Ah, blessed are you 
 if you come to stay 
 
 'Where winged Calliope extends her sway; 
 And doubly welcome if you come to learn 
 Upon her altars incense sweet to burn. 
 
 Erinna. I thank you for your welcome. Yes, 
 I fain 
 
 Would strive to join Calliope’s blest train. 
 
 Sappho. And though unknown to fame you 
 see her now, 
 
 She may yet wear the laurel on her brow. 
 But you, my proud Damophyla, I pray, 
 
 How have you spent the morning hours 
 to-day ? 
 
 Damophyla. Oh, I have idled all the hours 
 away, 
 
 Nor made one line of verse, I grieve to say, 
 Although I rose at dawn with purpose stern 
 To fill my tablets ere the stars should burn. 
 
 Sappho. Perhaps some thought within your 
 mind has stirred 
 
 That yet may grow into a glowing word. 
 
 Damoph\ t la. I know not, for all day my rest- 
 less mind 
 
 Has been as fitful as the changing wind. 
 
 At first I sat and wrote within my bower. 
 
 I could not bide the place more than an hour. 
 I then into the court my tablets bore, 
 
 Where I erased the lines I made before ; 
 Began anew, and wrote, while every verse 
 Grew more unmusical, and worse and worse. 
 At last I found myself in such a pet, 
 
 I rushed off to the woods to still my fret; 
 And there I threw myself upon the ground. 
 Quite soothed and rested by the streamlet’s 
 sound. 
 
 Sappho. And has the streamlet's song such 
 magic powers 
 
 To hold you there through all the morning 
 hours ? 
 
 Damophyla. Oh, no! but soon I caught, with 
 much surprise, 
 
 The merry glances of two sparkling eyes; 
 And saw before me there a little child, 
 
 With cheeks and lips all stained by berries 
 wild. 
 
 I washed his rosy face with water bright, 
 Around his form I threw my cloak so white, 
 And shook his tangled yellow curls apart — 
 I surely in their meshes left my heart, 
 
 For then, so bright and lovely did he seem, 
 I feared that he would vanish like a dream ; 
 And so my most engaging arts I tried 
 To keep him happy by the fountain- side. 
 
 At last, unwillingly. I saw how high 
 Apollo drove his chariot through the sky. 
 
 As I was loath to leave the lovely child, 
 
 He came with me, by promised gifts be- 
 guiled. 
 
 While we were passing through the village 
 street, 
 
 A woman wild with grief we chanced to 
 meet. 
 
 ‘ ‘ My son ! my son ! ” and ’fore my very face 
 She clasped him, cloak and all, in her em- 
 brace. 
 
 A brawling woman, stout, with brawny 
 arms; 
 
 But yet for me her mother-love had charms. 
 Whene'er the boy shall reach a fitting age, 
 
 I think that I must have him for my page. 
 
6 
 
 SAPPHO. 
 
 Sappho. Though proud your heart, Damo- 
 phyla, and cold, 
 
 It surely must some germ of warmth enfold, 
 For many times I've noted it and smiled. 
 How oft you look with love upon a child. 
 
 Damophyla. You do me great injustice, you 
 would find. 
 
 If you could fathom all my soul and mind. 
 Say, do you think me haughty, bashful maid, 
 And proud and cold, as Sappho just has said ? 
 
 Erinna. I — I — I cannot tell. How can I 
 know ? 
 
 Sappho. In truth, she met you but an hour 
 ago. 
 
 Dear maiden, you awearied are, I fear, 
 
 With journeying. I will not keep you here. 
 So to your bower Damophyla shall lead. 
 Where you may find refreshment that you 
 need. 
 
 Damophyla. Yes, come, dear maid, [aside] 
 and I will try to show 
 My heart a little warmer than the snow. 
 
 [Exeunt Damophyla and Erinna.] 
 
 Sappho. Ah me, how wondrous is the human 
 soul ! 
 
 How many billows through its caverns roll, 
 More deep, more unexplainable, more strange 
 Than those which through the ocean caverns 
 range ! 
 
 My soul, thou art the North Sea’s ice-tipped 
 wave ; 
 
 The tropic warmth that Afric’s sun has 
 given ; 
 
 The cruel foam that decks the sailor’s grave ; 
 The azure depths as blue as cloudless 
 heaven. 
 
 And this one makes thee calm as summer 
 skies ; 
 
 Another brings the heavy gloom of night ; 
 
 And that one makes thy heaving billows rise, 
 And fills thy leaping waves with glowing 
 light. 
 
 I love him! oh, I love him! but, ah me! 
 
 I know not am I loved. Within my breast 
 
 How fades the glowing flame! How sud- 
 denly 
 
 Its ashes drift and drift in sad unrest! 
 
 And yet I know that I am very fair, 
 
 That many for my precious love have 
 sighed. 
 
 One sought to win my hand by valor rare, 
 And, wreathed with gore, amid his honors 
 died. 
 
 Another at my feet heaped treasured gold 
 And Eastern pearls, to deck me as his bride 
 
 With rarest gems and spices — wealth untold. 
 I loved him not; I thrust them all aside. 
 
 And one my praise in lofty strains has sung, 
 And one has proffered me a noble name, 
 
 And one a breaking heart before me Hung, 
 Nor ever love into my spirit came — 
 
 Not even when to him my hand I gave 
 
 Who lies deep slumbering in an honored 
 grave. 
 
 O Love, great conqueror, I pray thee tell 
 How opened thou the barred gates of my 
 soul ? 
 
 How dared thou fold thy pinions there to 
 dwell ? 
 
 Unasked thou cam’st for either bliss or 
 dole. 
 
 Oh. tell me true, to still my rising fears, 
 Wherefore thou cam’st: To sing a mar- 
 riage song ? 
 
 Or over Hope’s cold shroud to weep sad tears 
 And deck her grave with withered flowers 
 ere long ? 
 
 [57/ e stops and listens.] 
 
 Ye flowers, be still, nor let a petal fall ! 
 
 I hear a step within the outer hall. 
 
 Oh, rest, ye winds! and list, thou noisy bird! 
 
 Is it a step that ye before have heard ? 
 
 “ 'Tis he! ’tis he! ” ye all together cry. 
 
 Oh, boast ye not, ye knew him soon as I. 
 
 He comes! he comes! the sunshine of my 
 soul! 
 
 What floods of joy now o’er my spirit roll ! 
 
 [Snatches up some embroidery. Enter Phaon.] 
 
 Phaon. Hail, glorious Sappho, have you time 
 to-day 
 
 To leave Olympus’ heights, where Muses 
 dwell, 
 
 To tread awhile this earth of common clay 
 For my poor sake, a mortal youth ? Pray 
 tell. 
 
 Or if th’ immortal gods should find it meet 
 Your radiant face to hold within the skies, 
 
 Why, I will sit here lonely at your feet, 
 
 And rend the heaven with my heart-deep 
 sighs. 
 
 Sappho. No need, my charming Phaon; Muses 
 love 
 
 To leave the pearly palaces above 
 
SAPPHO. 
 
 DAMOPHYLA. 
 
 PHAON. 
 
SAPPHO. 
 
 And dwell with man ; but most of all, I say, 
 
 Calliope ’mong mortals holds her sway. 
 
 Indeed, I never tread Olympus’ height. 
 
 For my loved Muse for me makes Lesbos 
 bright. 
 
 I welcome you. No need to rend the skies 
 
 With lamentations and with heavy sighs. 
 
 Phaon. If aught can add unto your beauty 
 rare, 
 
 It surely is the gracious, queenly art 
 
 With which you bid me welcome. Queen 
 most fair 
 
 You are, O Sappho, over many a heart. 
 
 But now explain the riddling words you said ; 
 
 I cannot solve them in my stupid head. 
 
 Sappho. Say not that I o’er many hearts hold 
 sway ; 
 
 One heart is kingdom amply large. But, 
 pray, 
 
 What riddle did I speak ? I have forgot, 
 
 Or when I said it, Phaon, meant it not. 
 
 Phaon. Calliope ’mong men, I heard you say, 
 
 Of all the nine most often comes to stay. 
 
 Methought she came but to the favored few ; 
 
 And yet I know your thoughts are ever true. 
 
 Sappho. ’Tis true, indeed ; if you have eyes to 
 see, 
 
 She may be found where’er on earth you flee ; 
 
 She dwells in shade and sunshine, rain and 
 snow, 
 
 In palace grand and herdsman’s cottage low. 
 
 North, south, east, west, wherever you may 
 roam, 
 
 She is. The universe was made her home. 
 
 + 
 
 Phaon. By Zeus ! ’tis true ! I see her in your 
 eyes, 
 
 Your lips, your hair! From out your voice 
 she cries ! 
 
 Your tiny hands 
 
 Sappho. Hush! hush! be not so bold. 
 
 Phaon. I’ll simply add, within the work you 
 hold, 
 
 And ask you to forgive me, for your frown 
 As if ’twere lead, weighs my poor spirit 
 down. 
 
 And now again you smile ! Let us forget 
 And have a happy talk together yet. 
 
 I’m watching with deep wonder how you ply 
 The needle ; how it fairly seems to fly, 
 
 And like a ship, whose bows the water break, 
 It ever leaves behind a shining wake. 
 
 I really long some ’broidery to do ; 
 
 It is so charming — would ’twere manly, too. 
 Sweet Sappho, will you teach me how to sew? 
 
 Sappho. Why, Phaon, ’tis a woman’s art, you 
 know ! 
 
 Phaon. Yes, yes, I know; but if you’ll never 
 tell, 
 
 I’d like to try. I’m sure I’ll do it well. 
 
 Sappho. So be it. I as oracle would say 
 Your forces will be conquered in the fray; 
 For enemy more sly will ne’er be seen 
 Than subtle stitch and thread of silken sheen. 
 
 Phaon. In truth, I fear them not, for they 
 shall know 
 
 That Phaon is a brave and hardy foe. 
 
 Now to the conflict! 
 
 9 
 
 Sappho. Yes, your arms now wield. 
 
 [Hands a needle.] This is your lance; 
 [hands an ancient thimble] and this 
 must be your shield. 
 
 Phaon [finding the thimble too small], Apollo! 
 in the small shell of a snail 
 
 You bid me place a large and full-grown 
 whale ! 
 
 Sappho. Does it not fit? Well, you must learn 
 without. 
 
 Here, take the cloth. No, turn it round 
 about. 
 
 Now take a stitch from underneath, right 
 there. 
 
 Phaon [having pulled the thread through]. 
 Confound the thread ! it came through, 
 I declare ! 
 
 Sappho. You made no knot. There, tie the 
 end up tight. 
 
 Phaon [pricking himself ]. Ye gods and 
 
 heavens above ! the thing can bite ! 
 
 Sappho. Most boastful sir, your arms deliver 
 now. 
 
 Phaon. Oh, never, never will I give them up, 
 I vow. 
 
 See, now I take the stitch. Is it not right ? 
 
 [Damophyla enters the room unobserved 
 and stands watching. ] 
 
 And this, and this. Metliinks 'tis conquered 
 quite. 
 
10 
 
 + SAPPHO. 
 
 Damophyla [ to Phaon]. I would congratulate 
 you, skilful maid ; 
 
 But what has made you start and look 
 afraid ? 
 
 Phaon. I — nothing. I was hut examining 
 This piece of work. It is a lovely thing. 
 
 Damophyla. Ah, yes. How I admire the 
 perfect truth 
 
 Peculiar to this generation’s youth ! [ Departs 
 haughtily.] 
 
 Sappho. Too bad, for you were really doing 
 well. 
 
 Phaon. Dear me! I hope that she will never 
 tell. 
 
 Sappho. She will not. I'll request her not to 
 say 
 
 What "most unmanly deed you did to-day. 
 
 Phaon. I thank you. But I trespass now, I 
 know, 
 
 Upon your time, and so I rise to go. 
 Farewell, most glorious Sappho, may I come 
 To visit you again within your home ? 
 
 Sappho. And welcome, sir. Farewell. [Exit 
 Phaon.] 
 
 Farewell, farewell, 
 
 My love, my life, my more than I can tell ! 
 
 * 
 
 ♦ 
 
SAPPHO. 
 
 ERINNA. 
 
 DAMOPHYLA. 
 
 ATTENDANT. 
 
 a OF IUL UB. 
 
SCENE II. 
 
 [At Lesbos, same as before. Damophyla bind- 
 ing a wreath. Erinna near by.] 
 
 Erinna. ’Tis many moons since I, poor stranger, 
 came 
 
 To seek in this blest land a name and fame ; 
 
 But oh, how quickly have the seasons sped — 
 
 The happy hours with pleasant duty wed! 
 
 I do not know what pious deed I’ve done 
 
 That I such favor from the Fates have won. 
 
 Damophyla. Nor do I know what deed you’ve 
 ever done 
 
 That you this happy fate should not have 
 won. 
 
 ’Tis surely known unto the gods above 
 
 No mortal is more worthy of their love. 
 
 Erinna. You shame me, dear, by speaking too 
 much praise. 
 
 Damophyla. Then I will cease, nor set your 
 cheeks ablaze. 
 
 But look you at my wreath. Is it not sweet ? 
 
 Erinna. To crown a goddess’ brow it would 
 be meet. 
 
 Damophyla. Ah, then, indeed, I am well satis- 
 fied. 
 
 To that high office it shall be applied. 
 
 Erinna, will you grant me a request? 
 
 A something which you only can do best ? 
 
 Erinna. What strange thing can that be? 
 With joy I lend 
 
 Whatever powers I have to you, dear friend. 
 
 Damophyla. I wish that you would make in 
 my behalf 
 
 A prayer to Artemis. Nay, do not laugh, 
 For surely she will listen to your plea 
 Far sooner than she ever would to me. 
 
 And you shall pray that she will look and 
 smile 
 
 Upon the ode I write to her ; the while 
 I'll kneel and listen. She will not say “nay,” 
 For your sweet sake. 
 
 Erinna. Oh, gladly will I pray. 
 
 Damophyla. There is her image. You her 
 brows shall wreathe, 
 
 And I will place the lighted lamp beneath. 
 
 [They perform these tasks , and kneel ] 
 
 Erinna. Thou goddess of the silver bow, 
 
 Thou huntress of the timid doe, 
 
 List what we say. 
 
 Thou wearer of the crescent bright, 
 
 Thou sliedder of the silver light, 
 
 Attend, we pray. 
 
 We crown tliy image fair with garlands 
 damp 
 
 From early dew. We light the sacred lamp. 
 Be present with Damophyla in dreams. 
 
 Oh, shed on her thy gracious, silv'ry beams; 
 Display thy charms, so chaste and pure, ere 
 long, 
 
 That she may carve them in immortal song. 
 Thou goddess of the silver bow, 
 
 Thou huntress of the timid doe, 
 
 Turn not away. 
 
 Thou wearer of the crescent bright, 
 
 Thou shedder of the silver light, 
 
 Be kind, we pray. 
 
 [Both rise. Enter Sappho, dressed for out- 
 doors. ] 
 
 Sappho. Good-by, fair maids, you see me bent 
 Upon a charitable intent; 
 
 For one of the unhappy poor 
 Lies dying almost at our door. 
 
 Erinna. Ah ! is there aught that I can do ? 
 
 Damophyla. And is there nothing for me, 
 too? 
 
 Sappho. No, I will comfort these sad hours 
 And strew the path of death with flowers, 
 Until her weary soul shall know 
 Forgetfulness in shades below. 
 
 [To attendant.] Come, boy, we must 
 no longer stay. 
 
 Erinna. May peace attend you on your way. 
 [Exit Sappho. J 
 
 How far our Star can shed her light 
 For trav’lers in the lonely night! 
 
 How beautiful she is; how kind; 
 
 How large of heart; how great of mind! 
 
 To such a one the Mother Earth 
 Can surely ne’er but once give birth. 
 
 It seems all ills of life to mend 
 To simply have her for a friend. 
 
 Damophyla. How wild the wind begins to 
 blow! 
 
 And look ! far out at sea 
 The billows tipped with foam like snow ! 
 
 Erinna. Ah, how it startles me! 
 
 For but last night I dreamed a dream. 
 
 I thought the sky was dark, 
 
14 
 
 Nor anywhere a cheering gleam : 
 
 And, tossing in a bark 
 Upon the angry, angry deep, 
 
 I clung to Sappho’s hand. 
 
 The waves went by with fearful sweep 
 And hurled us toward the land. 
 
 And oh ! before us loomed a rock ! 
 
 Its sides were dark and steep ; 
 
 We struck — we struck with awful shock, 
 We plunged into the deep! 
 
 Oh, try to calm me not. I yet 
 Can see the white, white spray — 
 
 My Sappho’s streaming locks of jet! 
 
 There came a gleam of day. 
 
 Upon the cruel rock you stood. 
 
 You stretched a hand to save ; 
 
 I could not reach it, and the flood 
 Rose up. Beneath the wave 
 We sank and sank. ’Mid foam and blood 
 We found an awful grave. 
 
 Damophyla. Erinna, be you not so wild. 
 Come sit you here, poor child, poor child ! 
 Remember that ’tis but a dream 
 However vivid it may seem, 
 
 For you are safe upon the land ; 
 Damophyla holds fast your hand. 
 
 And though the wind goes rushing by, 
 
 And veils with clouds the azure sky, 
 Within all things are bright and warm, 
 Protected from the winter storm. 
 
 And for your Sappho have no fear. 
 
 Within a little cottage near ; 
 
 For quickly, should some danger lower, 
 Her feet could reach our sheltered door. 
 
 Erins' v. I thank you for the words you say. 
 
 + SAPPHO. + 
 
 To what strange thoughts I’ve been a prey ! 
 I’ll now dispense with all my fears, 
 
 Nor for a fantasy shed tears. 
 
 But lately I have had some care : 
 
 I wonder if you are aware 
 
 How deep the love my Star bestows 
 
 Upon that Phaon. Ne’er arose, 
 
 I’m sure, a love within my breast 
 That caused such joy — such wild unrest. 
 
 Damophyla. Methinks you have deceived 
 your eyes. 
 
 Such worthless love could ne’er arise 
 In virtue-loving Sappho’s breast. 
 
 Erinna . But ah, I have a surer test. 
 
 For Sappho poured into these ears 
 Her tale of love and joy and fears. 
 
 Damophyla. ’Tis strange, ’tis very, very 
 
 strange ! 
 
 She seemed above the love-god’s range, 
 Engaged, I thought, in nobler arts 
 Than giving smiles and winning hearts. 
 
 But does he share with her his love? 
 
 Erinna. ’Tis known but to the gods above. 
 
 He calls her beautiful and fair. 
 
 He sings the praises of her hair, 
 
 He raves about her queenly head, 
 
 But still he never once has said, 
 
 “I love you, dear.” I know him far 
 Unworthy of my shining Star, 
 
 And yet she loves him. Would he prize 
 Her precious love, he’d surely rise 
 To merit it; for all must know 
 That into what we love we grow. 
 Damophyla. I like him not. He is as light 
 
 And prone to change as cloudlets white. 
 
 I’ve heard the village women tell 
 He loves the rattling dice too well, 
 
 The merry feast, the sparkling drink. 
 
 From war’s alarms he’d run, I think. 
 
 [Enter Phaon with how and arrows.] 
 Phaon. Fair maids, may I find shelter here 
 From howling winds and heavens drear? 
 Most lavishly the rain clouds pour 
 From laden skies their garnered store. 
 
 Erinna. Quite welcome, sir. Be seated, pray. 
 
 Phaon. I thank you. I was far away 
 Upon the hunt when all the skies 
 Began to cloud and winds to rise. 
 
 I found me here before the door 
 When first the rain began to pour. 
 
 Damophyla. And did your garment’s scarlet 
 stain 
 
 Lose any freshness from the rain? 
 
 Phaon. I know not. Cared I not for wetted 
 skin 
 
 But wished for some excuse to come within. 
 Damophyla. Indeed ? 
 
 Erinna. But in the hunt to day pray tell 
 
 If anything of interest befell. 
 
 Phaon. There’s naught, I fear, to tell. We 
 met with game 
 
 No bigger than a dove. I took sure aim 
 And down the little creature fell, stone dead. 
 My arrow having pierced straight through 
 its head. 
 
 There was a flight of vultures on our left 
 
ERINNA. 
 
 DAMOPHYLA. 
 
 PHAON. 
 
 ATTENDANT. 
 
 SAPPHO. 
 
 ATTENDANT. 
 
 ATTENDANT. 
 

SAPPHO. 
 
 17 
 
 And my companion brought one down most 
 deft. 
 
 They say that ’tis a sign betokens ill ; 
 
 I never let such worries my head fill. 
 
 For whatsoe’er the Fates decide shall be, 
 
 Not Zeus himself can change by his decree ; 
 So think the good and pious. If ’tis so, 
 
 Why not enjoy the moments as they go ? 
 
 If not — but I’ll not shock your pious mind 
 With doubting words which on my tongue I 
 find. 
 
 Erinna. Oh, say them not, for angry Zeus this 
 hour 
 
 Might strike you with his thunderbolts of 
 power. 
 
 Damophyla. Excuse me, but I fear you long 
 to know 
 
 Where tarries Sappho's charms of jet and 
 snow. 
 
 She is within a peasant’s cottage near, 
 
 To lay the dead upon the funeral bier. 
 
 Phaon. Forgive me if you deem my speech 
 too bold, 
 
 But I’m content with charms of snow and 
 gold. [Erinna starts up with a cry autl 
 rims out of the room.] 
 
 Can I have grieved that tender hearted maid 
 By anything which I just now have said V 
 
 Damophyla. No doubt your recent words 
 caused tears to start 
 From jealousies arising in her heart. 
 
 Phaon. I ill can brook your cruel words of 
 scorn, 
 
 Have pity on me, standing here forlorn, 
 
 And let me nearer come, though ’tis to hear 
 Cold, stinging words most hard for me to 
 bear. 
 
 Damophyla. No, stay you where you are. 
 Do not desire 
 
 To kindle in me anger’s flaming fire. 
 
 Phaon. I'll dare to brave your anger’s flaming 
 breath, 
 
 For if I die near you ’twere happy death. 
 Pray tell me why you scorn me with such 
 hate, 
 
 And why from you I merit such a fate ? 
 
 0 my Damophyla, I love but you ! 
 
 [Seizes her hand.] 
 
 Damophyla. Unhand me, or your rashness 
 you shall rue ! 
 
 Now listen, sir, if you desire to learn 
 How much contempt and scorn within me 
 burn. 
 
 Some months ago, the day I found the child 
 Who stole away to hunt for berries wild, 
 While resting by the fountain, in the shade, 
 
 1 saw you walking with a village maid. 
 
 Pray tell me why she pines with moan and 
 
 tear. 
 
 And why to day she dies with Sappho near ? 
 
 Phaon. You crush me with a weight of scorn 
 and doubt! 
 
 By Zeus! I know not what her grief’s about. 
 I swear by all the earth and heavens above 
 I never once have spoke to her of love ; 
 
 And if I ever caused her any woe, 
 
 I swear by death itself I did not know. 
 
 Damophyla. I would you spoke the truth. 
 Nor is that all. 
 
 No doubt you bound great Sappho in your 
 thrall 
 
 Unconsciously. No doubt you do not drag 
 Her name into your feasts, nor ever brag 
 To your companions how you’ve pierced her 
 heart 
 
 Quite easily with Eros’ stinging darts. 
 
 Phaon. Ye gods! you drive me wild! Go not 
 away. 
 
 In pity list to but one word, I pray ; 
 
 To gain one sight of you alone I came. 
 
 Nor dreamed I of incurring thus your blame. 
 Go not away, oh, look with pitying eye 
 Just once upon me! Say if hope must die. 
 
 Damophyla. It must. 
 
 [Exit Damophyla.] 
 
 Phaon. My heart, this is the bitter end. 
 
 What joy or gladness now has life to lend? 
 Where shall I go? Where lay my weary 
 head? 
 
 My heart, my heart, your hope is dead, is 
 dead ! 
 
 [Enter Erinna ] 
 
 Erinna. Reluctantly, oh, sir, I've thrown aside 
 My woman’s shame, my woman’s sense of 
 pride, 
 
 And I have come to tell you, if I may, 
 
 What ’tis, I know, no woman’s place to say. 
 But oh, indeed, my very life I’d give, 
 
 If only joy in Sappho’s heart could live ; 
 
18 
 
 4- 
 
 SAPPHO. 
 
 For slie, I fear, is doomed to awful pain, 
 Unless from you some pity she can gain. 
 Great Sappho loves you. Sappho, queen of 
 song, 
 
 Gives you her love, long sought by noble 
 throng. 
 
 Oh, wear the priceless jewel on your breast, 
 Tis there alone for it is peaceful rest. 
 
 Why look you not rejoiced? Sure happier lot 
 Than this were ne’er to mortal creature 
 brought. 
 
 Phaon. And can you stand and ask me to be 
 glad 
 
 Who mourneth for the dead? Ah, bitter sad 
 Am I — too sad— too sad — too bitter sad 
 To e’er again upon this earth be glad. 
 
 Erinna. Ah, my poor Phaon, has the chill of 
 death 
 
 Deprived a parent or some friend of breath? 
 Phaon. My hope is dead. 
 
 Erinna. But Sappho loves you still. 
 
 With Sappho at your side, what fear of ill? 
 
 Phaon. Prate not to me of Sappho. 
 
 [Exit Erinna in despair.] 
 
 At my side 
 
 Will you ne’er walk, Damophyla, a bride? 
 [Enter Sappho.] 
 
 Sappho. Well, Phaon, have you refuge from the 
 rain? 
 
 But why upon your brow those knots of 
 pain? 
 
 What ails you? What is this? 
 
 4- 
 
 Phaon. She loves me not. 
 
 Oh, point to me some place — some happy 
 spot 
 
 Of sweet forgetfulness. 
 
 Sappho. Who does not love? 
 
 Phaon. Damophyla, my life, my spotless dove. 
 
 Sappho [aside]. Oh, heavens, my heart ! | Heels 
 as if to faint, but recovers.] 
 
 Phaon. She bids my hope be dead, 
 
 Oh, where on earth to lay my weary head 
 I know not, 
 
 Sappho. Phaon, pray thee do not weep, 
 
 Hope is not dead, it lieth in a sleep; 
 
 It sleepeth, but it yet may wake and rise. 
 
 A maid’s first answer naught of truth implies ; 
 Despair you not ere you have fairly tried — 
 Damophyla may yet become your bride. 
 
 Phaon. Can it be true? Into the wind and rain 
 I go to still the ravings of my brain. 
 
 “Hope sleepeth, but it yet may wake and 
 rise.” 
 
 Oh, grant that it be true, ye weeping skies! 
 [Exit Phaon ] 
 
 Sappho. For you hope sleepeth, but for me it 
 dies. 
 
 Oh, fall and crush me, all ye heavy skies! 
 
 Ah, ye can weep, ye skies, ye blessed skies! 
 But healing tears come not into my eyes; 
 They pour into my heart. It soon must 
 break : 
 
 It is so full — so heavy for his sake. 
 
 My sobs, be still ! What is that ye say, 
 
 Ye billows rolling in the deep at play? 
 
 I hear your voice, your words are all un- 
 plain, 
 
 Ye murmur something o’er and o'er again. 
 Speak louder, for ye seem to soothe my woe. 
 How like to me is your wild ebb and flow! 
 Ye break and break and break upon the wall 
 Of cruel rocks. In vain ye rise and fall. 
 
 Nor do the high cliffs bend nor softer grow 
 Howe’er ye wash them in your ebb and flow. 
 Ye mighty cliffs that overcome the sea, 
 
 My Phaon’s heart is harder far toward me. 
 Ail, me, what is it that the billows say? 
 Speak louder still, nay, louder yet, I pray! 
 Ah! now I understand, “Come home, come 
 home,” 
 
 Ye say, “ nor longer there in sadness roam, 
 For we will fold you, sister, to our breast. ” 
 I come, dear ones, to gain your promised 
 rest. 
 
 [Enter Erinna weeping. ] 
 
 Mourn not for me, I go to find a home 
 Amid the ever-rolling billows’ foam. 
 
 Do ye not hear them calling? Fare you well. 
 They are my sisters. There in peace 1 11 
 dwell. 
 
 Erinna. Oh, take me, too; I care not here to 
 stay. 
 
 Sappho. They call you not. They murmur 
 “nay ‘’and “nay.” 
 
 Farewell, sweet home, where I no more shall 
 dwell : 
 
 Through all eternity, farewell, farewell ! 
 [Exit Sappho.] 
 
ATTENDANT. 
 
 ATTENDANT. 
 
SAPPHO. 
 
 21 
 
 Erinna. And is she gone to find a cruel grave? 
 ’Twere far more sad the pain of life to brave. 
 Forme, ah, nevermore can earth be bright; 
 My lovely Star has set in deepest night. 
 
 [Exit Erinna. Enter Damophyla.] 
 
 Damophyla. I know not why I feel so sore 
 distressed ; 
 
 By strange forebodings is my heart op- 
 pressed. 
 
 Methinks that I was cruel, yea, and cold 
 To Phaon, for perchance the truth he told. 
 His yearning cry and look of wild despair 
 Have filled my heart with anxious thought 
 and care. 
 
 Who knows how far this grief will lead the 
 youth ? 
 
 I almost think he loves me, for in truth 
 I never saw a mortal being pour 
 From burning eyes such looks of love before. 
 I wish he’d come again, and I would give, 
 Perhaps, one word whereby his hope might 
 live. 
 
 [Enter Phaon.] 
 
 Phaon. Damophyla, I pray, give me relief. 
 
 I can no longer bear this awful grief ; 
 
 ’Twill madden me ' ’Twill drive me to the 
 grave ! 
 
 Oh, have you not one word with which to 
 save ? 
 
 You listen! oh, you smile! It is a dream 
 That you so cold and cruel once could seem. 
 Oh, give one word of hope — just one, I pray, 
 That 1 may win your love some happy day ! 
 
 Damophyla. But ere I grant to you the boon 
 you ask, 
 
 Will you for me perform a heavy task ? 
 
 Phaon. A task? Oh, anything! But do not 
 say 
 
 A task, for work for you, my love, is play. 
 
 Oh, I could move the world and mount the 
 skies 
 
 Could I see hope of love within your eyes! 
 
 Damophyla. Then listen. You must climb 
 the mountain steep, 
 
 And dwell among the keepers of the sheep ; 
 
 To join their number, and to tend the flocks, 
 
 And pasture them amid the flinty rocks. 
 
 Oh, boldly face the winter’s snow and sleet: 
 
 The springtime’s brawling torrent bravely 
 meet; 
 
 Turn not away from summer’s burning heat. 
 
 Nor autumn’s howling tempests, fierce and 
 fleet. 
 
 Until the second springtime there remain; 
 
 Dare not before to see my face again. 
 
 On this condition will I grant you hope. 
 
 Have you the strength with hardship thus to 
 cope ? 
 
 Phaon. But oh, how long ere we shall meet 
 again ! 
 
 How many moons must wax and then must 
 wane ! 
 
 Ah, me, how slow will seem each dreary day ' 
 
 Can I not win you by some shorter way ? 
 
 Damophyla. No, no! a brute with muscles 
 strong and great 
 
 Might do some deed of swiftness, lift some 
 weight. 
 
 It takes a man with patient care to do 
 
 Some homely task the lagging seasons 
 through. 
 
 It is the greatest strength o'er self to reign, 
 
 Each rash desire and impulse to restrain. 
 
 Naught but a man can ever win my love. 
 
 Now go, and by this task your manhood 
 prove. 
 
 Phaon. I go : hut must we thus so coldly part ? 
 
 Damophyla. Then take my hand just once 
 before you start. 
 
 Phaon [kissing her hand]. This little hand I 
 ne’er before have pressed, 
 
 ’Twas made, I’m sure, to simply be caressed. 
 
 [Exit Damophyla.] 
 
 Ah, me, she’s gone! and I have trials to 
 meet. 
 
 Ye Coming Seasons, pray thee he most fleet! 
 
 O Will, now give me strength, I beg, to 
 leave 
 
 This perfumed air wherein her nostrils 
 breathe. 
 
 How oft these downy cushions has she 
 pressed ! 
 
 ’Twas here, I think, her dimpled arm did 
 rest ! 
 
 And sure this garland her dear hand did 
 make ; 
 
 What harm if I from it one flower should 
 take ? 
 
 Great Artemis, thou maiden goddess bright. 
 
 My love has lit for thee this sacred light, 
 
For oft of olcl, Saleni, was she prone 
 To worship at thy sacred silver throne. 
 Endymion with love has filled thy heart, 
 
 A love like thine to my dear love impart; 
 
 Oh, grant both this and what I anxious 
 crave ! 
 
 My love to thee this flowery garland gave ; 
 Permit me but one simple flower to take, 
 And be not angry for Endymion’s sake. 
 
 | Taken a rosebud ] 
 
 + SAPPHO. + 
 
 This little bud more precious is by far 
 Than gem of gold or flashing diamond star. 
 Should all the earth from out its bosom pour 
 Its priceless gems, its hidden treasure store ; 
 Nay, should the miser sea its riches yield 
 And join them to the rest for me unsealed, 
 They all could not induce me to resign 
 This simple little rosebud-flower of mine. 
 
 But I must to my future task away 
 Howe’er I long in this sweet spot to stay. 
 
 I’ll cover up my eyes lest I may see 
 Some consecrated thing once touched by 
 thee, 
 
 My love, my love, my precious light of day ! 
 And, loath to part with it, make more delay. 
 With eyes as filled with darkness as my 
 heart, 
 
 From thee, my very soul, I now depart. 
 [Exit with eyes shrouded in cloak.] 
 
DAMOPHYLA. 
 
 PHAON. 
 
 ATTENDANT. 
 
SCENE III. 
 
 [At Rhodes. Erinna seated among spinning 
 implements .] 
 
 Erinna. Ye Fates, what justice is there in 
 your sway V 
 
 Why rule ye with a partial hand alway ? 
 
 I bring ’gainst you this charge before I die : 
 Ye look upon the good with scornful eye, 
 
 Ye bring the wicked high, the pious low, 
 Your gift unto the good is endless woe. 
 Before my soul I dare you now to say 
 Where is the justice of your wonted way. 
 Can ye explain how Sappho has deserved 
 The bitter lot which ye for her reserved ? 
 
 Her life, so spotless, merited no blame. 
 
 Ye gave to her a blackened, tarnished name; 
 Her days she filled with kindest actions done, 
 When, in what way, has she your kindness 
 won ? 
 
 Her love was true in purest whiteness 
 dressed, 
 
 Ye plunged it as a sword into her breast. 
 
 And I — have I committed any sin, 
 
 That I from you a breaking heart should 
 win ? 
 
 Cold, cruel Fates, ye are as hard as stone, 
 
 As deaf, and more unwilling to atone. 
 
 If I should kneel before you, yea, should 
 plead 
 
 On bended knee, ye would not hear nor 
 heed; 
 
 But simply crying your harsh words, ‘ ‘Thou 
 must! ” 
 
 Would leave me trampled in the very dust. 
 I feel your cruel shackles o’er me cast, 
 
 I feel them binding me so fast — so fast. 
 
 Can I not break them ? Off , thou iron chain ! 
 Thy crushing weight my soul will not sus- 
 tain. 
 
 It binds me tighter ! Help! I faint! I die! 
 [Enter Sappho’s Spirit.] 
 
 Sappho's Spirit. Erinna, far away I heard 
 thy cry, 
 
 And came with haste to bring to thee relief. 
 What wishest thou ? My space of time is 
 brief. 
 
 Erinna. Most blessed spirit, thou with woe 
 didst weep 
 
 In life, and anxious vigils thou didst keep. 
 Unmerited they were. I pray thee tell 
 What justice in the heart of Fate doth dwell. 
 Why do I perish here, amid the gloom, 
 
 With grief for thee and hatred for the loom ? 
 
 Sappho's Spirit. There are no Fates, but man 
 to mortal man 
 
 Is bound by endless ties ; nor ever can 
 He break from these. Thy present life is 
 tied 
 
 To every life existing, far and wide. 
 
 ’Tis bound to every life within the past 
 By adamantine chains linked firm and fast. 
 ’Tis binding to itself each life to be. 
 
 From these, thy ties, the world will ne’er be 
 free. 
 
 Erinna. But still, where is the justice ? 
 
 Sappho’s Spirit. There is One 
 
 More bright than all the brilliance of the sun ; 
 More wise than all the wit of sages old ; 
 
 More loving than all love by singers told. 
 
 He made the universe in wondrous way ; 
 
 His awful power no words can ever say ; 
 
 But know, the richest wealth He can bestow, 
 It is to share with men their heavy woe. 
 
 Erinna. I know it not. What good has woe 
 e’er given ? 
 
 Sappho’s Spirit. The joy is not of earth, it is 
 of heaven. 
 
 Each pang for fellow-creatures borne on 
 earth 
 
 Within thy soul to thousand joys gives birth. 
 Rejoice that thou thy fellow’s pain dost bear. 
 Rejoice that thou art bowed with grief and 
 care; 
 
 For soon from out this dreary world of night 
 Thy soul to happy realms shall take its flight. 
 
 Erinna. Oh, stay one moment, Spirit, truly 
 tell — 
 
 Are there no gloomy shades where I must 
 dwell ? 
 
 Must I not cross the dark and silent stream 
 Unto a place bereft of sunshine’s gleam ? 
 
 Sappho’s Spirit. You still must cross the 
 dark and silent stream 
 Unto a place where is no sun’s bright beam, 
 But where is One who sheds a glowing light 
 Than myriad suns more blessed and more 
 bright. 
 
 Erinna. Oh, joy ! But must I tread the sound- 
 less halls 
 
 Of dull forgetfulness, whose misty walls 
 Can echo from the past no laugh nor sigh ? 
 Oh, must I put my soul’s emotions by ? 
 
26 
 
 SAPPHO. 
 
 Far rather would I moan with pain and 
 weep, 
 
 Than lose my powers in dull and dreamy 
 sleep. 
 
 Sappho’s Spirit. Nay. All thy senses soon 
 such strength will know 
 
 As ne’er can be imagined here below. 
 
 Full soon upon thy free, unfettered soul 
 
 Emotions all undreamed of strong will roll. 
 
 Erinna. But one more answer, Spirit blest, 
 I crave : 
 
 Shall I meet thee beyond the gloomy grave ? 
 
 And shall we know the precious love of old ? 
 
 + 
 
 Sappho’s Spirit. Our love on earth our future 
 love foretold. 
 
 As weak it was to what it soon will be 
 As is the grassy blade to mighty tree. 
 
 I cease. No longer, maiden, can I stay, 
 They call to me. I hasten far away. 
 
 [Exit Sappho’s Spirit. ] 
 
 Erinna. No Fates! no dull forgetfulness! no 
 night ! 
 
 But love and happiness and glowing light! 
 I soon shall see it. Oh, my soul, awake! 
 Prepare thyself thy blessed flight to take. 
 
 Oi, thou great One! before unloved, unknown, 
 Who makest all the universe Thy throne, 
 
 Thou who art powerful, other powers above, 
 And yet dost reign to give us of Thy love, 
 My life is past; nor shall I e’er again 
 On earth bear any grief for mortal men. 
 
 My life has been too selfish, too unkind — 
 Ah, many flaws within my soul I find ; 
 
 And yet Thou lovest me. O loving One, 
 Forgive me all the evil I have done. 
 
 O strong and powerful One! by Thy great 
 might 
 
 Allow each deed to work but for the right. 
 Great, loving One, I see at last Thy light ! 
 Adieu forevermore, O earthly night! 
 
 [Falls bach ■ dead.] 
 
SCENE IV. 
 
 [At Lesbos. Damophyla embroidering. ] 
 
 Damophyla. Springtime again! The second 
 springtime bloom 
 
 Since that dread winter filled with awful 
 gloom. 
 
 And with the budding flowers a budding 
 hope ; 
 
 May flowers and hope ere long in blossom 
 ope! 
 
 Oh, will he come, the Phaon of my dream ? 
 Will the real Phaon true and noble seem ? 
 Will Phaon when he stands before me be 
 The Phaon who by fancy’s eyes I see ? 
 
 0 long-lost Sappho, from me shall I send 
 The prize for lack of which your life did end ? 
 Love is the need of every human heart — 
 When love is dead, the virtues all depart. 
 One craves the love of many, and desires 
 By many little loves to light joy’s fires. 
 Another longs but one whole heart to gain ; 
 One form alone within his breast can reign. 
 Methinks that every soul in search of rest 
 One plan tries first, and when, at his behest, 
 He finds that which he wanted in his breast, 
 He longs for joy the other plan to test. 
 
 1 used to think that all my soul desired 
 Was simply by a host to be admired. 
 
 I've tasted it and found it not so sweet 
 
 As I had thought. The other plan I'll greet. 
 But why do I deceive myself and say 
 I will that I shall love. My heart, nay. nay. 
 You love already. This I tell you plain : 
 
 The form of Phaon rules in your domain. 
 When he shall come you'll take him as he is. 
 And love his very faults because they're his, 
 
 Of yore I never would have thus confessed 
 A fond and foolish weakness in my breast ; 
 But softening grief within my soul I bear, 
 And it has left a gentle impress there. 
 
 [ Enter Phaon. Damophyla gives a cry of joy. ] 
 
 Phaon. My dearest love, a joyous light I see 
 Within your eyes! Is that sweet light for 
 me ? 
 
 Damophyla. How very unexpected do you 
 come ! 
 
 I had no news of your arrival home. 
 
 Phaon. Our ship arrived but one short hour 
 ago ; 
 
 I hastened here my future fate to know. 
 
 Oh, tell me soon. 
 
 Damophyla. Be seated, Phaon ; pray, 
 
 Did gentle wings attend your homeward 
 way ? 
 
 Phaon. Aye, gentle, sweet and blessed, for 
 they bore 
 
 My bark most swiftly to this lovely shore 
 Whereon you dwell. Damophyla, I've done 
 Most faithfully my task, and I have won 
 The manly virtues — courage, patience, power 
 O’er self to reign. Through every busy hour 
 My love for you has grown in strength, until 
 It seems the mighty universe to thrill; 
 
 As strong and true was never love before. 
 All selfish was my love for you before, 
 
 But now, Damophyla, should you declare 
 “ I love you not, nor ever can,” I swear 
 I would not strive to darken all your life 
 By urging you, my love, to be my wife. 
 
 But, O ye Fates, grant that it be not so; 
 Apportion not to me this lot of woe ! 
 
 Damophyla. But of your mountain life I pray 
 you tell. 
 
 You seem, indeed, to be most strong and 
 well. 
 
 Phaon. Ah, me, you make delay. Well, yes, 
 the wealth 
 
 I’ve surely found of perfect ruddy health. 
 But you, I fear, a paler cheek have gained. 
 The while these many moons have waxed and 
 waned. 
 
 ’Tis sorrow’s traces in your face I see, 
 
 And I, in truth, have not been sorrow free. 
 Regret and pain have often chilled me 
 through ; 
 
 My consolation, dear one, was in you. 
 Damophyla, my loved one, do you know 
 That whatsoe'er I am to you I owe? 
 
 Twas you who pointed out my erring 
 ways — 
 
 All others gave me naught but smiles and 
 praise. 
 
 You dared to frown upon each fault. You 
 showed 
 
 The path that leads to virtue’s peaceful road. 
 As great the reverence for you I feel 
 As is my love. Oh, I could even kneel 
 And worship you as one too pure, too bright, 
 To dwell in any place but heaven’s height. 
 Damophyla. No, no, my Phaon, quickly, 
 please, arise. 
 
 No goddess am I save unto your eyes. 
 
 I know my faults, nor would I, Phaon, dare 
 To be your wife were you, too, not aware 
 
28 
 
 + SAPPHO. 
 
 How great they are ; for wlieu you'd knowl- 
 edge gain 
 
 Too late of them, ’twould cause you grief 
 and pain, 
 
 And I perchance should lose your love. 
 
 Phaon. Oh, say 
 
 Not so. My love for you will ever stay. 
 Believe me, dear, my eyes have learned to 
 read 
 
 Most clearly character from word and deed. 
 You are too honest e’er to show outside 
 The best of you, and all the worst to hide. 
 Pray give me now the answer that I crave: 
 Oh, be my wife! Look up, dear one! Be 
 brave 
 
 To whisper ‘ ‘yes ! ” 
 
 Damophyla. Now, Phaon, pry thee, wait. 
 I’ll give my answer at a time more late; 
 
 For I must think in solitude. 
 
 Phaon. Oh, no, 
 
 Be kind. Compel me not in doubt to go. 
 
 Or if a space of solitude you need, 
 
 I'll run into the court and back with speed. 
 Oh, let this red, red rose of beauty rest, 
 When I return, as “yes” upon your breast. 
 
 Damophyla. But what shall answer “no?” 
 
 Phaon. Alas, ah, me, 
 
 If it be “ no,” let me no blossom see; 
 
 For blossoms bright would mock my heart’s 
 deep gloom, 
 
 If it be “ no.” oh, wear no blossom’s bloom. 
 I'll soon return. 
 
 Damophyla. A moment pray, delay ; 
 
 The court too short a distance is away. 
 
 Go to the old oak tree, and walk you slow ; 
 ’Twill leave scant time for me my mind to 
 know. 
 
 Phaon. Be kind, I beg. 
 
 [Exit Phaon.] 
 
 Damophyla. Ah, dear, could you but read 
 My heart, no rose your anxious eyes would 
 need. 
 
 Before you came I loved you. Now I feel 
 That I am yours in life, for woe or weal. 
 
 [Places the rose on her breast.\ 
 
 You sweetest emblem of my love, I place 
 You here in all your beauty’s crimson grace. 
 Did you but feel the weight of bliss you bear. 
 How soon 'twould crush your petals frail and 
 fair ! 
 
 But joy is light! it floats on airy wings. 
 
 A myriad garlands over me it flings, 
 
 And with me now I feel it lightly soar 
 To heights that I have never known before. 
 But Phaon comes! how quickly did he go! 
 Sweet love could never walk with footstep 
 slow. 
 
 [Enter Phaon .] 
 
 Phaon. She wears the red, red rose ! Light of 
 my life. 
 
 This holy word I speak — call you my wife. 
 Kneel I before you here speaking my vow : 
 Evermore shall I love even as now. 
 
 [Kneels and kisses the hem of her garment .] 
 
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