TEXT AND TRANSLATIONS
63
V
What frenzy in my bosom raged,
And by what cure to be assuaged,
What gentle youth I would allure
Whom in my artful toils secure,
Who does thy tender heart subdue,
Tell me my Sappho, tell me who.
VI
Though now he shuns thy longing arms,
He soon shall court thy slighted charms,
Though now thy offerings he despise,
He soon to thee shall sacrifice;
Though now he freeze, he soon shall burn
And be thy victim in his turn.
VII
Celestial visitant, once more
Thy needful presence I implore.
In pity come, and ease my grief,
Bring my distempered soul relief,
Favour thy suppliant’s hidden fires
And give me all my heart desires.
