Throned on the rainbow, goddess Aphrodite,
Daughter of Zeus, wile-weaver, I beseech thee,
Neither with fears nor sorrows, O thou dread one,
Thrall my poor bosom;

But hither speed, as oft in other seasons
Heeding with grace my suppliant invocation
Thou wert propitious, coming from the golden
Dome of the Father,

In thy light chariot harness'd by the sparrows
Which o'er the dark earth skimmingly did bear thee,
Quivering thence with rapid wing to heaven
Thro' the mid aether:

Swiftly they came; and thou, the everblessed,
Smiling with godlike countenance serenely,
Askedst me what I suffer'd then, and wherefore
Now I invoke thee;

And chiefly this, what most of all I long for
In my hot mind,- and whom I would entangle
In the strong meshes of my love ;- O Sappho,
Who is it slights thee?

For if he flees her,- swiftly will she follow;
If he receive not gifts,- yet will she give them;
If he love not,- yet quickly will she kiss him,
Yea, tho' unwilling.

Come to me then, and save me from my sorrows
hard to be borne, and what my soul desires
Done - see thou done, O goddess,- and my champion
Be thou for ever.

Another.
Equal to gods in beatific rapture
Seems the too favour'd lover, who beside thee
Fondly reclines, and whispering thee softly
Waits the sweet answer,

Sunnily smiling then :- ah me! that bright look
Pierces my heart, weak flutterer in my bosom,
Soon as I see thy fairness, am I stricken
Silent and breathless;

Then flow my words with utterance incoherent,
Over my skin the thrilling fire rushes,
Dimm'd are mine eyes, my ringing ears are deafen'd
With hollow boomings,

Then am I bathed in chilly dews,- a trembling
Seizes me,- paler am I than the flower
Faint with the sun,- weak, motionless, and helpless,
Languidly dying,-

Yet must I dare to tell my love-