 | Sappho |  |
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.
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.
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!
348
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.
| Sappho | |