Away, deceitful cares, away,
And let me listen to his lay;
Let me the wanton pomp enjoy,
While in smooth dance the light-wing'd Hours
Lead round his lyre its patron powers,
Kind Laughter and Convivial Joy.
I.--3.
Broke from the fetters of his native land,
Devoting shame and vengeance to her lords,
With louder impulse and a threatening hand
The Lesbian patriot [1] smites the sounding chords:
Ye wretches, ye perfidious train,
Ye cursed of gods and free-born men,
Ye murderers of the laws,
Though now ye glory in your lust,
Though now ye tread the feeble neck in dust,
Yet Time and righteous Jove will judge your dreadful cause.
II.--1.
But lo, to Sappho's melting airs
Descends the radiant queen of love:
She smiles, and asks what fonder cares
Her suppliant's plaintive measures move:
Why is my faithful maid distress'd?
Who, Sappho, wounds thy tender breast?
Say, flies he?--Soon he shall pursue:
Shuns he thy gifts?--He soon shall give:
Slights he thy sorrows?--He shall grieve,
And soon to all thy wishes bow.
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