University of Virginia Library

SAPPHO,

A LYRICAL DRAMA IN THREE ACTS.

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

• Sappho.
• Phaon.
• Agenor, a noble Sicilian, father to Doris.
• Doris.
• Lycidas in love with Doris.
• Arethusa, a Naiad.
• Statue of Hymen animated.

SCENE SICILY.

PRELIMINARY SCENE.

VENUS and CUPID descend or enter.
CUPID.
From thy own Cyprus, goddess! on the wing
Of duteous zeal I meet thee; from the isle
Where ev'ry gale breathes love, where ev'ry shade
Weaves a close canopy for fond desire
To revel in unsated; where each stream,
That leads its mazy silver thro' the mead,
Murmurs a strain of liquid minstrelsy
Soft as the Dorian lute.

Ven.
But not so sweet
As Sappho's Lesbian lyre, and this to hear
I now invite thee. Come, my Son, with me
Receive harmonious incense from that lyre;
Hear the sweet suppliant, and unite with mine
Thy power (if Jove and his stern fates permit)
In aid of her distress.

Cup.
Declare the cause.

Ven.
Thou dost remember, (for this pensile orb
Has not as yet been circled by the sun
With annual radiance) since we both were mask'd
In shapes of mortal mould, and minded both
To pass the Cydnus: near the further bank
There lay a rude and homely fisher boy
Stretch'd on his rush-wove float, with hook and line
'Guiling the fish that scudded thro' the stream.
We call'd him to us, and with willing speed
He left his lures, and to the distant shore
Gave us safe waftage: with his manner pleas'd
And unschool'd courtesy, as soon as landed,
I stood confest the goddess; bade him ask
What wond'rous boon he pleas'd, and my full power
Should instant grant it: the fond youth ask'd beauty;
Beauty supreme, to strike the dullest sense,
And melt the coldest bosom.

Cup.
True, he did,
And still my recollection marks the change
With pleasure mix'd with wonder; his brown forehead,
Which the hot sun had parch'd and freckled o'er,
Quick took a Parian polish. His rude locks,
That stood in bristly tangles round his head,
Now smoothly flow'd in hyacinthine rings,
Mantling his neck and shoulders; downy crimson
Soft'ned his rustic ruddiness of cheek;
His eye glanced tenderness; his smile breath'd love.
Meanwhile the Graces at thy bidding came,
And from their sacred alabaster vase
Shed that blest unguent, which to all his limbs
(Accordant to proportion's faultless law)
Gave new dimensions, only seen before
In shapes of heav'nly frame.—But to the tale.

Ven.
Chang'd as he was, the youth repair'd to Lesbos,
Where Sappho saw, and, need I add, ador'd him.
For, Cupid, well thou know'st, the tender soul,
That Poesy inspires, is very wax
To Beauty's piercing ray: the blooming boy,
More raptur'd with her lyre than with her form,
Feign'd real passion; swore eternal truth.
Yet scarce the waning moon had heard his vows,
Ere all those vows were broke, and perjur'd Phaon
Parted for Sicily; where now he reigns
Here like ourselves, my Son, all-absolute,
Conquering each heart he lists, nor needs thy shafts
To aid his victories.

Cup.
But what of Sappho?

Ven.
Disconsolate she sought the darkling grove,
Where the lorn nightingale prick'd on her thorn
Wails to the list'ning stars, and join'd her plaint
With kindred notes as sweetly querulous.
And oft her hand would hang upon the trees
Sad madrigals, the which my pitying doves
Stole from the stems and bore to Phaon's eye,
But all in vain: at length, to court my aid,
Hither she bends her course. Ev'n while I speak,
I spy her glittering bark: see, o'er the waves
It rides with fav'ring gale! Our place be now
The middle region, where enshrin'd in clouds
We'll hear the vot'ry and accept her prayer.

[They ascend.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Grove with a view open to the sea on one side, and an elegant Temple dedicated to Venus on the other. While the Overture is performing, a splendid Barge appears on the sea bearing Sappho and her attendants from Lesbos; they land, and approach the Temple; when Sappho takes her Lyre from her principal attendant, and strikes it in accompaniment to her voice.
SAPPHO.
Immortal Venus! power benign!
From this thy gaily-glittering shrine,
Daughter of Jove, thy vot'ry hear!
O, skill'd in each delusive art,
That best beguiles the love-lorn heart,
Defend thy Sappho from despair!
Come with such willing haste,
As oft thou cam'st before,
When thy light car thy nimble sparrows bore
Thro' the cærulean vast.
Forth from thy mighty sire's refulgent hall
Swift on their little dusky wings they flew,
Propitious to my call,
And gave thee to my dazzled view.
Raptur'd I mark'd each radiant grace,
That beam'd in thy celestial face;
I saw thee smile; I heard thy tongue
The soft consoling strain prolong;
“What from my power would Sappho claim?
“Who scorns thy flame?
“What wayward boy
“Disdains to yield thee joy for joy?
“Soon shall he court the bliss he flies;
“Soon beg the boon he now denies,
“And, hast'ning back to love and thee,
“Repay the wrong with extacy.”
Ah, gentle Goddess! once again
Repeat the soft consoling strain:
My queen, my patroness, my friend,
Again thy powerful influence lend;
Relieve me from these dire alarms,
And give my Phaon to my arms!

[The Hymn ended, she takes from another of her attendants two Doves, and with the rest of her train enters the Temple.]

SCENE II.

AGENOR, DORIS.
Dor.
In pity hear me!

Ag.
No, my soul's resolved;
I will not yield to this proud Lesbian youth
Thy beauty, or my wealth.

Dor.
Nor do I hope it.

Ag.
Why then admit vain Phaon to thy bower?

Dor.
In duty to the goddess of this fane,
I must admire the form she made so fair;
On whom she lavish'd more enchanting grace
Than deck'd her own Adonis.

Ag.
And for this,
Ev'n for the gloss and varnish of complexion,
Is virtuous Lycidas, with coy disdain,
Banish'd thy presence.

Dor.
To the shepherd's merit
I give my heart's esteem.

Ag.
'Tis a cold tribute:
The youth deserves thy love, and once possest it.
But mark my words; I led thee here to mark them.
Lo! at this fane I swear, not to survive
The day thou wed'st with Phaon.

Dor.
Dearest Sire!
Recall the word.

Ag.
Daughter, the vow is made;
Jove, when he swears by sable Styx, not binds
His oath more firmly.

Dor.
Hear me but a moment—

Ag.
Away—discard all duty—marry Phaon—
Yet, in the hour of transport, Doris, know
A father's death shall turn thy bliss to woe.
The Furies from their Hell shall start,
And thunder to thy trembling heart,
That then thy father died;
Shall dash with guilt and shame the hour,
When Phaon to the nuptial bower
Leads thee, a willing bride.

[Exit Agenor.

SCENE III.

DORIS.
Tremendous threat! yet justly given to her,
Who, tho' she knows the force of filial duty,
Knows the dear tribute due to faithful love;
To both must live a debtor. Death alone
Must aid me. Crimes we ought, yet cannot, hate
Are only cancell'd by the stroke of Fate.
Ye virgin shades, relieved from pain,
That in Elysian vallies rove!
Ah! take me to your pensive train,
Victims like me of hopeless love!
Lead to the glades where, softly slow,
Oblivion's Lethe steals along:
There let me join your warbling woe,
Or sigh responsive to your song.

[Exit Doris.

SCENE IV.

LYCIDAS, and afterwards SAPPHO, from the Temple.
Lyc.
Stay, Nymph! she hears me not—or hearing flies me,
Perchance, to follow Phaon. O my spear,
That oft hast on the felon wolf repaid
His outrage on my fold, prepare thy point
To quell a baser robber!

Sap.
What is this?
A youth of wild demeanor: yet, methinks,
He has not long been thus. His eye, tho' fir'd
With rage, has yet a tenderness withal,
That speaks his bosom gentle. Hapless youth,
Perhaps, the nymph he loves has been unkind!
What if I question him? Stay, courteous Swain?
A stranger sues thy converse.

Lyc.
Thou'rt a woman
I have forsworn the sex.

Sap.
'Tis as I fear'd;
Love has done this; yet hear me, tho' a woman,
I never did thee wrong: in pity tell me
Where Lesbian Phaon sojourns.

Lyc.
Phaon, sayst thou?
O that this spear were buried in his breast;

Sap.
Venus forbid! what, wouldst thou murder Phaon?

Lyc.
I would, but dare not: lest a deadlier frown
From Doris should avenge the righteous blow.

Sap.
And loves he Doris?

Lyc.
That his trait'rous heart
Can only tell: enough for me to know,
That Doris, won by his delusive wiles,
Disdains my virtuous passion. Gracious gods!
Why sleeps your vengeance? why, at truth's just call,
Does not destruction's bolt on falsehood fall?
Is there not thunder in the sky?
Lightning, of pale and livid glare,
Prepar'd the perjur'd breast to tear,
And prove that justice reigns on high?
Fall then, dread meteors, from above!
Ye whirlwinds rush; ye tempests growl;
And wreck on Phaon's impious soul,
The fury of offended Jove!

[Exit Lycidas.

SCENE V.

SAPPHO.
Ah, I have heard enough! he loves another;
And she (as needs she must; so absolute
His beauty's sov'reignty) returns his passion.
I look'd for this; and therefore did I bring,
Lodg'd in my bark, the vestments of a shepherd,
In these I'll veil my sex; adieu my lyre!
Tho' sweeter than the harp, than gold more dear,
Awhile must I resign thee; and inform
The liquid languor of Sicilian reed
To breathe as I inspire! Yet if the powers,
That Phœbus gives me, like their Author prove,
With this I'll woo; I'll win my rival's love.
Parent of Harmony descend!
The Muse's and the Lover's friend;
Thro' melody's meand'ring tide
Let sense and sound united glide;
Link in thy sympathetic chain
The tend'rest thought, the softest strain,
And lead the touching tones along
Thro' ev'ry melting mood of song;
So shall the tuneful contest prove,
That Music rules the realms of Love.

[Exit Sappho.

SCENE VI.

Changes to an enclosed Lawn with a bower in the centre ornamented with festoons of flowers. Enter
PHAON.
This is her bower; and this the time agreed.
Doris was ever punctual to the moment;
Nay even forewent it: should she fail me now,
My careless heart tells me it well could brook
A longer absence; lovely as she is,
And unenjoy'd, I feel already sated.
Ah, rapt'rous Sappho! wherefore did I leave thee!
Thine was a soul of fire. Others can love,
But not like thee: this Doris owns a passion,
But thou alone couldst feel it: Joy in her,
In thee was extacy. I left thy arms
To gain fresh taste for their superior charms.
The bee that roves round every field,
And sips the balm that each bestows,
For sweets, that common cowslips yield,
Resigns the nectar of the rose;
But, when the transient feast is o'er,
He seeks the rose he left behind,
And finds, in the forsaken flower,
Both nectar and ambrosia join'd.
But see where Doris comes: health to my fair one,
And love, and transport!

SCENE VII.

DORIS, PHAON.
Dor.
Rather fear, and torture;
For these alone possess the heart of Doris.

Pha.
What? when I meet thee? when thy Phaon's lips
Print on this hand, this fervent seal of love?

Dor.
Forego the hand, that never must be thine:
A father's frowns—

Pha.
Weigh'd with his daughter's smiles
Are light as air to Phaon: such to thee
Should be those frowns, when weigh'd with Phaon's love,

Dor.
If Phaon lov'd me with a worthy passion,
He would not counsel thus.

Pha.
When filial duty
Contends, as now it seems, with faithful Love,
One must be scorn'd.

Dor.
But Doris has a heart,
(And hence arises all her misery)
That can scorn neither.

Pha.
Then the love of Phaon
Has not that force, that interest in thy bosom,
He once had cause to hope.

Dor.
Cruel! it has;
Thou know'st it has; thou hear'st it in my sighs;
Thou see'st it in my tears; my voice declares it.
Go with the pleas'd conviction, that thy charms
Have made poor Doris wretched: place her name
The last, the lowliest in the suff'ring list,
Thy beauty has enslav'd: let Lesbian Sappho
Hold, as she ought, the highest.

Pha.
Jealousy,
Not duty, there prompted the cold reproof.

Dor.
I meant not to reprove thee; would to Heav'n,
That never from that Sappho's am'rous breast,
Thy faith had parted! then I had not seen thee,
And had not been undone. No father's frown
(As now it does) had spread confusion round me;
No virtuous lover mourn'd my cruelty.
But, as it is, thy pity I implore,
Quitting those charms I ever must adore.
'Tis duty, Phaon, bids me fly
The heav'n of smiles, that decks thy face,
And ev'ry more than mortal grace,
That triumphs in thy eye.
Yet mem'ry ev'ry grace and smile
Shall hoard, as misers do their store,
And these, till life's vain dream be o'er,
My sorrows shall beguile.

[Exit Doris.

SCENE VIII.

PHAON.
She goes, in hope I should pursue her step
To her stern father's presence; and, with prayer,
And bended knees, and supplicating hands,
Implore a boon, that I can gain without it.
No, Lesbian poetess! Apollo's daughter!
Phaon, whose charms once freely won thy heart,
Disdains the thought. And thou, bright Queen of Love!
Who gav'st me beauty to support thy reign,
Shalt find that gift was not bestow'd in vain.
From fair to fair in ev'ry isle,
That lifts its forests from the wave,
I'll rove, their beauties to inslave;
The coyly grave,
The freely gay,
Shall each be victims to my smile;
I'll woo them all, perplex, beguile,
Possess, and fling the toys away.
Too long has woman wore the crown,
And rul'd with love's resistless power:
'Tis time, that man should have his hour,
To reign a tyrant in his turn.
So shall the swains, that dayly sigh
With unavailing passion true,
In Phaon their avenger view,
And hail his am'rous victory.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A Grove near the House of Agenor.
AGENOR, DORIS, LYCIDAS.
Ag.
Hence from my sight! or with repentant speed
Restore thy heart to Lycidas.

Dor.
My hand
('Tis all I can) I yield him.

Ag.
See, the swain
With virtuous pride disclaims it!

Lyc.
Not from pride,
But grief, Agenor, I decline a gift,
That Doris yields so coldly.

Dor.
Take it, Youth,
And know, tho' Phaon claims my adoration,
He ne'er shall be thy rival. If his charms
Surpass (as sure they do) whate'er is human,
May I not pay to him that tribute chaste,
We give to bright Apollo?

Lyc.
But his heart,
Wayward and false; his bold licentious tongue;
Does that bespeak divinity?

Ag.
If so,
'Tis such as frights us in the Satyr troop,
That follow Faunus, or the Cyclops rude,
Which oft, at eve, from Etna's burning womb
Are seen to climb, and cool them on yon cliff,
Carolling strains uncouth.

Lyc.
Or boldly daring,
Like ruthless Polypheme, to lure the faith
Of one more heav'nly fair than Galatea
From one, as true as Acis.

Dor.
Hapless Youth!
Much do I pity thee, and much myself.
Yet all I can, in offering here my hand,
I give thee. Ah! my Father, check thy frowns.

Ag.
Away! my soul thy perfidy disowns.
Fly to the Lesbian traytor, fly!
Forsake the mansion of thy Sire:
From fair Sicilia's plains retire,
And take an exile's destiny.
The dower of penury and pine,
Giv'n by a father's curse, be thine!

[Agenor and Doris exeunt different ways.

SCENE II.

LYCIDAS.
Agenor, stay! my heart releases Doris
From all her vows, so thou forgiv'st her crime.
He hears me not. Ah, lost, lost Lycidas!
And, if he heard thee, could'st thou yield the nymph
To impious Phaon? lov'd as thou hast been,
Canst thou, reflecting on that love, resign
That bliss to him, which should alone be thine?
Ah! how the Hours, on golden plume,
Flew lightly o'er this fragrant shade,
Where, with my lovely Doris laid,
I cropt the rose, and woodbine's bloom,
To weave a garland for her head.
O cruel change! the tempests lour!
The roses droop, the woodbines fade!
Falsehood and Fraud have seiz'd the bower,
And robb'd me of my darling Maid!

SCENE III.

LYCIDAS, SAPPHO (disguised as a Shepherd.)
Sap.
Shepherd, I kindly greet thee!

Lyc.
Whence—what art thou?
Methinks I made acquaintance with thy face
This morning near the temple; but thy garb
Then spoke thee female.

Sap.
True; and such I am,
A nymph of Lemnos.

Lyc.
Thy resplendent galley
Glittering with streamers, and thy numerous train
Bespoke thee noble.

Sap.
True; but what avails
Or birth, or wealth, when love, when bliss is lost;
When Phaon has deceiv'd me?

Lyc.
Heav'ns! another
Inthrall'd as Doris?

Sap.
Yes, and to release
Doris from thraldom, to avenge myself,
And blast his perfidy, I mask me thus
In man's attire. Conduct me swift to Doris.

Lyc.
Ah! what will that avail?

Sap.
Know, gentle Swain,
I boast no vulgar skill in minstrelsy,
And mean by that to win her heart from Phaon,
And make it mine. That done, from such a bond
(My sex declar'd) thou shalt thyself reclaim
That truant heart, and fix it thine for ever.

Lyc.
Impossible! ye gods, that I could hope it!
O! she too madly doats on Phaon's beauty;
Yet thou art beauteous too; and in thy eye
There sits a soft and modest tenderness,
Which more, methinks, should move a virgin's mind,
Than Phaon's wanton glances.

Sap.
Not on that
Shall I depend, which had not power to keep
My Phaon faithful; but my surer hope
Springs from my soul, and its enchanting art
Which, while it sooths, inflames each hearer's heart.
Whate'er of sacred magic reigns
In verse and heav'n-born harmony,
I mix in my melodious strains:
Apollo hears me from his sky;
Thro' music's maze he guides the song,
Obsequious to my tuneful call;
Now lifts the swelling sounds along;
Now sinks in a pathetic fall.

Lyc.
Never till now did my rapt ear imbibe
Such strains celestial: the tun'd spheres themselves,
That o'er our heads ring their immortal chime,
To the blest gods give not more extacy,
Than thou to Lycidas! it must succeed.
Come on, sweet Lemnian Syren; swift I'll lead thee
To the fair bower, which Doris haunts at noon.

SCENE IV.

Changes to another part of the Grove.
AGENOR, PHAON.
Ag.
The guilty ever fly from those they fear;
But I have found, and, finding thee, command
Thy quick departure: Sicily disdains
To harbour falsehood. Vengeance here awaits
Thy crimes. Begone, and by thy flight avoid
Thy doom.

Pha.
Unconscious of those crimes, old man,
Why should I fly?

Ag.
Thou hast seduc'd my daughter.

Pha.
I have won
Thy daughter's heart, and, having won, will keep it.
Agenor, know, I am no vulgar suitor!
I own, what well may justify my claim
To nymphs as rich as Doris.

Ag.
Wert thou wealthy
As Lydian Crœsus, I would scorn thy suit:
I've given her to another.

Pha.
'Tis a grant,
Which parents have not in their power to give;
Else why have I her heart? thou didst not give it,
And yet 'tis mine.

Ag.
Insolent wretch! I'll hear
No more. If the next rising sun
Beholds thee here, thy punishment's begun.
The rat'ling chain, the prison's gloom,
Where adders hiss, and scorpions sting,
Villain, shall be thy dismal doom!
There Famine, on her raven wing,
Shall hover o'er thy fainting head;
Till Nature, shrinking at the sight,
Quenches the lamp of life and light,
And gives thee to the perjur'd dead.

[Exit Agenor.

SCENE V.

PHAON.
Sternly he threatens, and has power confest
To put those threats in practice. I will haste
To Doris: press her, ere the morning dawns,
To fly with me to Cyprus. My trimm'd bark
Already is unmoor'd; my ship-mates ready;
And the breeze blows, as if it wish'd to speed
My am'rous theft, and sanctify the deed.
Fill'd with each wanton zephyr's gale
My nimble bark shall spread its sail,
And cut the wave with prow of gold:
Around it's keel young dolphins play;
Triumphant Tritons lead the way;
And laughing Love the helm shall hold.

[Exit Phaon.

SCENE VI.

Changes to the Bower of Doris.
DORIS.
Ye solitary shades, once more receive
Your love-lorn visitant! Let my poor limbs
Fall on your fragrance! O that they might soon
Sink into sleep eternal! that Agenor
Might find his daughter here, depriv'd of breath,
And wipe from her pale brow the dews of death!
Ye Powers! this load of life remove,
Who gave the boon to be enjoy'd;
Behold that boon a burthen prove!
Behold your gen'rous aim destroy'd!
Change then to death your gift divine;
The gift that gladly I resign.

[She reclines on the turf in a pensive attitude.

SCENE VII.

LYCIDAS, SAPPHO, DORIS.
Lyc.
Heard ye that pensive strain? it was the voice
Of Doris. See, reclin'd upon yon bed
Of fragrant violets she sits and weeps!
Hasten, I pray thee, and with some soft air
Chase from her breast the cloud of black despair.

[Lycidas retires behind the Bower, while Sappho sits down at her feet, plays a pastoral symphony on her reed, and then sings.
Sap.
The youth that gazes on thy charms,
Rivals in bliss the gods on high,
Whose ear thy pleasing converse warms,
Thy lovely smile his eye.
But trembling awe my bosom heaves,
When plac'd those heav'nly charms among;
The sight my voice of power bereaves,
And chains my torpid tongue.
Thro' ev'ry thrilling fibre flies
The subtle flame; in dimness drear
My eyes are veil'd; a murm'ring noise
Glides tinkling thro' my ear;
Death's chilly dew my limbs o'erspreads,
Shiv'ring, convuls'd, I panting lye;
And pale, as is the flower that fades,
I droop, I faint, I die!

Dor.
Who art thou, bright-ey'd Spirit? for those strains
Bespeak thee more than human. Tell me, which
Of the tun'd spheres thou guid'st, and why hast left
The chiming orb to sooth my mortal ear
With thy celestial warblings?

SCENE VIII.

PHAON.
What do I see? a rival at her feet!
He clasps her hand, devours it with his kisses.
Rouse thee, rash Swain, and stand prepar'd to meet
An injur'd lover's fury.

[Lycidas rushes from behind the Bower.
Lyc.
Stand there first,
And meet the fury of that injur'd lover
Who first has right of vengeance!

Pha.
Him I've caught
In am'rous dalliance; he shall first be punish'd,
Thee I can scorn at leisure.

[He runs at Sappho, strikes her on the breast, she falls.
Dor.
Stay thee, Phaon.
Ah me! the shepherd swoons. Good Lycidas
Prevent a deadlier blow.

[Lycidas seizes the crook of Sappho, and stands before the Bower to guard it, while Doris kneels and supports her.
Lyc.
Base Murderer, pause!
In me behold a man, whose firmer arm
Is brac'd to meet thy prowess, vile Assassin,
I dare thee to the combat!

Pha.
No, poor Shepherd,
Thy heart enough is wounded! Hie thee hence:
My wrath shall not assist the scorn of Doris,
Curst with the pang of unsuccessful love.
Go bear away thy woes and quit the grove.
Where the willows skirt the brook,
Go and weave a garland green,
Leave thou there thy scrip and crook,
Vent in tears thy jealous spleen:
Heave thou there thy last sad sigh,
Drop into the stream and die.

Sap.
Die didst thou say? I hop'd I had been dead;
But death, like Phaon, has deceiv'd poor Sappho.

Dor. and Lyc.
Sappho!

Pha.
Just Heav'ns! it is, it is my Sappho,
And I have wounded her perhaps to death!

Sap.
Would to that Heav'n thou hadst! but thou may'st still
Atchieve the deed; behold this bruised breast!
O! with thy dagger give a kinder blow,
And I shall be at peace.

Pha.
O torture! torture!
Where shall I turn? how hide me from myself?

SCENE IX.

AGENOR.
Whence springs this tumult? need I ask the cause,
When that licentious wretch appears before me?
But who the wounded swain?

Dor.
Hear, Sire, and wonder,
'Tis Lesbian Sappho; she whose tuneful fame—

Sap.
Ah! spare the praise, or turn that praise to pity.
Yes; pity her, whom fate ordain'd to prove
The sharpest pangs of agonizing love.
O! if thy aged heart can feel,
Ev'n from that venerable eye
My woes might bid the tears to steal,
And not debase its dignity.

[To Agenor.
Ag.
See, at thy call they freely flow!

Ag. Dor. Lyc.
We all partake in Sappho's woe!

Pha.
Shall I, that sorrow's impious cause,
Not add my true repentant tear?

Ag. Sap. Do. Lyc.
Traytor, avaunt! the vengeance fear,
That on thy head thy falsehood draws!

Ag.
Fly from his presence, hapless Fair:
Fly to my hospitable gate:

Dor.
There let this breast thy friendship share;

Lyc.
There let my zeal on both await.

Pha.
Shall I be banish'd from the grove,
Deny'd my folly to atone?

Ag. Sap. Ph. Dor. Lyc.
Such is the righteous doom of Jove!
So Justice thunders from his throne!

[Exeunt—Phaon on the opposite side.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

A gloomy valley with caves and trees on one side; a fountain issuing from a rock and forming a stream on the other: the sea seen at the termination of the vale, and the moon setting in the horizon. Sappho in her female habit comes out of one of the caves unattended.
SAPPHO.
The radiant Queen of night retires,
And quits her silver car;
The Pleiads veil their lambent fires,
And ev'ry glittering star,
That flam'd on midnight's sable brow,
Have ceas'd to tremble, and to glow;
While, lost to Phaon, love, and joy,
I heave the solitary sigh:
Still pants my wakeful heart, still weeps my wearied eye. [She reclines on a bank.

Ah! come ye balmy powers of sleep,
Nor from my arms, like Phaon, rove.
O! bid my eyes forget to weep!
Bid my fond heart forget to love.

SCENE II.

A soft symphony, during which Sappho falls asleep and the Naiad Arethusa rises from the stream, seated in a shell.
ARETHUSA.
See! from her translucent bed
Arethusa brings thee aid.
Lo! she sprinkles on thy breast
Vial'd drops, by fingers chaste
Cull'd from the cærulean deeps,
Where her coldest chrystal sleeps;
Where Alphéus dare not lave,
To mix with her's his amorous wave.
Thrice I lift my virgin hand,
Thrice I shed the vapors bland,
To calm thy soul; while I declare
The council I from Phœbus bear.
Know, by my voice, he bids his vot'ry fly
To where Leucate's cliff o'erhangs the main.
There shall she try
The last, the dangerous remedy
Of those, who love like her, and love in vain.
A voice divine proclaims thy cure:
Hear, Sappho, hear that voice divine!
To Phœbus haste with off'rings pure,
And lay them on his holy shrine:
Then from Leucate's frowning brow
(Resolved to perish or be free)
Rush to the wave that rolls below
And welcome Death or Liberty.

[Arethusa descends.

SCENE III.

SAPPHO
(awaking.)
What do I hear? I'll try the desperate leap.
Naiad, I thank thee. In thy friendly fount
I drop these tears of pious gratitude.
Yes, 'tis resolv'd; ev'n now I mount the rock.
Bold Fancy bears me to it's lofty summit;
Now hurls me headlong. Countless fathoms deep
I fall! the clear blue wave receives me. O how cold;
Yet grateful. Quickly will it quench the flame,
That thus consumes my heart. Phœbus, I come—
Ah! who arrests my step?

SCENE IV.

PHAON, SAPPHO.
Sap.
Traitor to love;
To honour; to the gods! abjur'd of Heav'n,
Avoid my presence!

Pha.
If repentant tears,
And sighs that rend the heart, from whence they spring,
Can plead forgiveness, Sappho, hear them plead.

Sap.
Yes; so he look'd. The sable-fringed lids
Of his false eyes thus veil'd their liquid lustre,
With modest shamefac'dness, when first he woo'd me.
Look thus on Doris, base one! Sappho towers
Above thy wiles. The god, the god inspires me!
He calls me to Leucate. Dread Apollo,
I hear, and I obey thy awful call.

Pha.
Hah! to Leucate!

Sap.
Yes, to that fam'd cliff,
Whence, dashing down into the whelming surge,
I'll die—or live to hate thee.

Pha.
My heart's Idol,
Forego this frenzy!

Sap.
Say that it were frenzy;
The wrongs, that thou hast heap'd on this poor brain,
Would justify the deed: but 'tis not frenzy;
'Tis inspiration. From yon stream it rose,
In a cærulean robe of Heav'n's own tincture.
Naiad! I saw thee rise; I heard thee speak:
Thou bad'st me fly to Liberty, or Death.

Pha.
Fly rather to these arms, to life, to love!

Sap.
Cruel! It was thy arm, that gave the blow,
Which makes life loathsome.

Pha.
'Twas the blow of error.

Sap.
Away! I will not parley with thy falsehood.

Pha.
Behold me kneel!

Sap.
Repentance comes too late.
Rise, Traitor, rise! my choice is fixt as fate.

Pha.
O! let this tender tear,
Contrition's purest dew,
My Sappho's pity move.

Sap.
No! my intense despair
Here sighs a long adieu
To Phaon, and to Love
I go—

Pha.
Yet hear—

Sap.
I go
To steep Leucate's brow.
I fly from fraud and thee.

Pha.
Yet stay—

Sap.
Deceiver! no.
The rolling waves below
Involve my destiny.

Pha.
Let Love his softest strains employ
To call thee back to him and joy.

Sap.
In vain; we part to meet no more—

Pha. and Sap.
What agony severe!
Fate has no sharper pang in store
The love-lorn breast to tear.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE V.

Changes to the Temple of Hymen with the Priests of the god standing before the Altar.
AGENOR, DORIS, LYCIDAS.
Ag.
Doris, tho' now the nuptial altar flames,
My blessing pauses.

Dor.
Why, my gracious Father,
When my repentant soul with truth returns
To filial duty, and to faithful love?

Ag.
Does Lycidas forgive thee?

Lyc.
Trust me, Sire,
Like summer storms, her frowns, my fears are past,
And mutual love shines brighter from the blast.
When hail descends in pearly shower,
The linnet nestling in the shade,
Hides with its wing its drooping head,
Nor tunes the sprightly lay.
But soon the sun's enlivening power
Dispels the cold, that chill'd the plain;
And soon the linnet hastes again
To warble on it's spray.

Dor.
Dear Lycidas! that jocund strain bespeaks
A heart completely cur'd of jealous fear;
Nor shall that baneful guest,
Wak'd by my falsehood, more invade thy breast.
When beauty, void of faith and truth,
Beguil'd my wand'ring eye,
This pensive heart, Ah! gentle Youth,
Could only heave and sigh.
It did not love, it but admir'd;
For love's allied to smiles and joy:
But now, by thy fair virtue fir'd,
It glows with extasy.

Ag.
Enough! enough! now did the voice of fate
Call old Agenor to the darkling tomb,
Where sleep his ancestors, trust me, my children,
The summons were right welcome. But he lives
To bless you both, and take from you the blessing,
Which dear observance of your mutual love,
Now sheds in streams of joy on his grey hair.
Haste, Holy Men, the sacrifice prepare.
Pour libations on the shrine;
Wake the pipe, the lute, the lyre;
Let the loudly-warbling choir
In harmonious chorus join.

Doris. Lycidas.
Call the god, that gives desire
Lawful right his joys to share.

Agenor.
Bid him warm this willing pair
With his torch of purest fire.

Chorus.
Holy Hymen, thou alone
Giv'st to faith and constancy
Fair fruition's lasting crown,
Years of unpolluted joy.

SCENE VI.

PHAON enters to them.
Ag.
Ah, whence that step! what wretch disturbs our rites?

Lyc.
Gods! does the Lesbian traitor dare insult
Chaste Hymen with his presence?

Ag.
Hence! far hence,
Thou most profane of that inconstant tribe,
Whom Hymen holds accurst.

Dor.
Hence, on thy life,
And dread the god's just vengeance.

Pha.
Well I know,
I merit all his vengeance; death befits
The wretch, who murder'd Sappho.

Dor.
Sappho murder'd?

Lyc.
And by thy impious hand?

Pha.
My hand is guiltless;
Nor is she dead. But know, she flies to Death,
And finds him at Leucate.

Ag.
Dread resolve!

Lyc.
Learn, Doris, learn to what dire deeds despair
Can drive a slighted lover.

Ag.
Was this act
Her own, or did some Deity inspire it?

Pha.
She talk'd of visions from Apollo sent,
Of some strange Naiad, who proclaim'd his mandate;
Yet sure 'twas frenzy all, and caus'd by me:
I therefore murder'd Sappho.

Lyc.
Sure thou didst.
Think, what a victim to thy falsehood falls!

Ag.
She was the very soul of Poesy;
Form'd by Apollo's self: her tuneful frame
Was the rich lyre, whence all his rapture flow'd.

Dor.
Nor more attun'd to Poesy, than Love:
Each note she breath'd was melting, as the voice
Of Venus when she wept Adonis dead.

Pha.
And had I died before her; died while faithful,
Her lays had crown'd me with that shepherd's fame.

Ag.
Go then, disloyal youth, and mourn thy baseness;
Away to chearless solitude.

Pha.
I mean it.

Dor.
Bear not to other nymphs thy soft deceits,
Thy winning gestures, thy delusive smiles.

Lyc.
Nor hope, as here thou didst, to part two hearts,
Which virtue first united.

Ag.
Learn, that beauty,
Were it as bright as gilds Hyperion's cheek,
Save when its bloom inshrines a virtuous heart,
Is only splendid misery.

Pha.
This, and more
I patiently can bear. Mix with reproof
Your sharpest taunts, I'll yet endure them all;
For I deserve them all. Yes, to some cave,
Which never chearing sun-beam pierc'd, I'll fly:
There live forlorn; there unlamented die.
Hail, horrors, hail! I come, I come!
Ye caves, o'erhung with savage thorn,
Receive me to your haunts forlorn,
A sad, a silent guest;
Fling round my head your darkest gloom,
And hide me in that living tomb,
Where anguish exiles rest.

[Exit Phaon.
Ag.
Behold his fate, and tremble, ye that dare
To break those chaste and sanctimonious vows,
This deity approves. But see, what light
Sudden and dazzling sparkles from his symbol!
Behold! it moves; it shakes its saffron robe;
In gentle guise it waves its lambent torch;
It speaks. [The Statue of Hymen during this speech appears animated by degrees, and then utters the following words in accompanying Recitative.

Mortals! to you 'tis given to view,
In bright ideal portraiture, the scene
Now passing at Leucate; mark it well,
And stamp the awful moral on your souls.

SCENE VII.

The Priests of Hymen hasten from the Altar and join the other personages on the front of the Stage; the Temple, Statue, &c. vanish instantly under a change of scene, which represents the Promontory of Leucate. The portico of a magnificent Temple dedicated to Apollo is seen in perspective on one side; out of which the Priests of the god come in solemn procession, followed by Sappho and her attendants: a slow pathetic march is played during the time. Two Orchestras are supposed to be necessary in the final Chorus, and one behind the scene at first.
SAPPHO.
Here pause awhile! be mute,
Ye warblers, that inspire the Dorian flute,
While Sappho, once the fav'rite of the Nine,
Nay, if fame bids her not too high aspire,
Their tuneful sister, to the radiant shrine
Of this her patron god, perchance her sire,
Devotes this instrument divine. [She hangs her Lyre on one of the Pillars.

Lo! on this column's Parian height
I hang the glittering freight:
And hear, ye Priests, with reverence hear
This verse inscriptive, by my voice decreed
Memorial of my dying deed.
“To Him, that did inspire,
“Sappho to Phœbus consecrates her lyre.
“What suits with Sappho, Phœbus, suits with thee;
“The gift, the giver, and the god agree.”
This off'ring made, my faithful virgin train,
Take ye my last adieu, and from my fate
Learn to distrust false man, if not to hate. [She ascends the Rock.

Tremendous Rock! I mount thee now;
And now I reach thy dreadful brow.
O giddy brain support the sight!
See, how the surge, as black as night,
Rolls horribly below!
It rolls—sad solace to despair,
Its awful murmurs strike my ear.
I faint—I tremble—Powers on high,
Ah! hasten from your sky:
Catch from perdition this devoted head.
Does Zephyr sleep? will Cupid bring
No soft, no tutelary wing
To waft me to my wat'ry bed?
Hear, god of Love, 'tis Sappho calls!
Dread deity! 'tis Sappho falls. [She throws herself from the rock; a clap of thunder is heard, and a swan is seen rising from the sea, and ascending to the clouds.


Concluding Chorus with both Orchestras.
PRIESTS OF APOLLO, HYMEN, AGENOR, &c.
Great Jove himself arrests her fate!
Hail, prodigy divine!
She soars a swan in plumy state;
To Jove she soars, to claim
In heav'n a residence divine,
On earth immortal fame.