[Footnote 1: i.e. The Duke of Buckingham, in Part I. of 'Absalom and
Achitophel'.]
* * * * *
No. 223. Thursday, Nov. 15, 1711. Addison.
O suavis Anima! qualem te dicam bonam
Antehac fuisse, tales cùm sint reliquiæ!
Phæd.
When I reflect upon the various Fate of those Multitudes of Ancient
Writers who flourished in _Greece_ and _Italy_, I consider Time as an
Immense Ocean, in which many noble Authors are entirely swallowed up,
many very much shattered and damaged, some quite disjointed and broken
into pieces, while some have wholly escaped the Common Wreck; but the
Number of the last is very small.
_Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto_.
Among the mutilated Poets of Antiquity, there is none whose Fragments
are so beautiful as those of _Sappho_. They give us a Taste of her Way
of Writing, which is perfectly conformable with that extraordinary
Character we find of her, in the Remarks of those great Criticks who
were conversant with her Works when they were entire. One may see by
what is left of them, that she followed Nature in all her Thoughts,
without descending to those little Points, Conceits, and Turns of Wit
with which many of our modern Lyricks are so miserably infected. Her
Soul seems to have been made up of Love and Poetry; She felt the Passion
in all its Warmth, and described it in all its Symptoms. She is called
by ancient Authors the Tenth Muse; and by _Plutarch_ is compared to
_Cacus_ the Son of _Vulcan_, who breathed out nothing but Flame. I do
not know, by the Character that is given of her Works, whether it is not
for the Benefit of Mankind that they are lost. They were filled with
such bewitching Tenderness and Rapture, that it might have been
dangerous to have given them a Reading.
An Inconstant Lover, called _Phaon_, occasioned great Calamities to this
Poetical Lady. She fell desperately in Love with him, and took a Voyage
into _Sicily_ in Pursuit of him, he having withdrawn himself thither on
purpose to avoid her. It was in that Island, and on this Occasion, she
is supposed to have made the Hymn to _Venus_, with a Translation of
which I shall present my Reader. Her Hymn was ineffectual for the
procuring that Happiness which she prayed for in it. _Phaon_ was still
obdurate, and _Sappho_ so transported with the Violence of her Passion,
that she was resolved to get rid of it at any Price.
There was a Promontory in _Acarnania_ called _Leucrate_ [1] on the Top
of which was a little Temple dedicated to Apollo. In this Temple it was
usual for _despairing_ Lovers to make their Vows in secret, and
afterwards to fling themselves from the Top of the Precipice into the
Sea, where they were sometimes taken up alive. This Place was therefore
called, _The Lovers Leap_; and whether or no the Fright they had been
in, or the Resolution that could push them to so dreadful a Remedy, or
the Bruises which they often received in their Fall, banished all the
tender Sentiments of Love, and gave their Spirits another Turn; those
who had taken this Leap were observed never to relapse into that
Passion. _Sappho_ tried the Cure, but perished in the Experiment.
After having given this short Account of _Sappho_ so far as it regards
the following Ode, I shall subjoin the Translation of it as it was sent
me by a Friend, whose admirable Pastorals and _Winter-Piece_ have been
already so well received. [2] The Reader will find in it that Pathetick
Simplicity which is so peculiar to him, and so suitable to the Ode he
has here Translated. This Ode in the Greek (besides those Beauties
observed by Madam _Dacier_) has several harmonious Turns in the Words,
which are not lost in the _English_. I must farther add, that the
Translation has preserved every Image and Sentiment of _Sappho_,
notwithstanding it has all the Ease and Spirit of an Original. In a
Word, if the Ladies have a mind to know the Manner of Writing practised
by the so much celebrated _Sappho_, they may here see it in its genuine
and natural Beauty, without any foreign or affected Ornaments.
An HYMN to VENUS.
I. _O_ Venus, _Beauty of the Skies,
To whom a Thousand Temples rise,
Gayly false in gentle Smiles,
Full of Loves perplexing Wiles;
O Goddess! from my Heart remove
The wasting Cares and Pains of Love_.
II. _If ever thou hast kindly heard
A Song in soft Distress preferr'd,
Propitious to my tuneful Vow,
O gentle Goddess! hear me now.
Descend, thou bright, immortal Guest,
In all thy radiant Charms confest_.
III. _Thou once didst leave Almighty Jove,
And all the Golden Roofs above:
The Carr thy wanton Sparrows drew;
Hovring in Air they lightly flew,
As to my Bower they wing'd their Way:
I saw their quivring Pinions play_.
IV. _The Birds dismist (while you remain)
Bore back their empty Carr again:
Then You, with Looks divinely mild,
In evry heavnly Feature smil'd,
And ask'd what new Complaints I made,
And why I call'd you to my Aid_?
V. _What Phrenzy in my Bosom rag'd,
And by what Care to be asswag'd?
What gentle Youth I could allure,
Whom in my artful Toiles secure?
Who does thy tender Heart subdue,
Tell me, my_ Sappho, _tell me Who_?
VI. _Tho now he Shuns thy longing Arms,
He soon shall court thy slighted Charms;
Tho now thy Offrings he despise,
He soon to thee shall Sacrifice;
Tho 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 distemper'd Soul Relief;
Favour thy Suppliants hidden Fires,
And give me All my Heart desires_.
Madam _Dacier_ observes, there is something very pretty in that
Circumstance of this Ode, wherein _Venus_ is described as sending away
her Chariot upon her Arrival at _Sappho's_ Lodgings, to denote that it
was not a short transient Visit which she intended to make her. This Ode
was preserved by an eminent _Greek_ Critick, [3] who inserted it intire
in his Works, as a Pattern of Perfection in the Structure of it.
_Longinus_ has quoted another Ode of this great Poetess, which is
likewise admirable in its Kind, and has been translated by the same Hand
with the foregoing one. I shall oblige my Reader with it in another
Paper. In the mean while, I cannot but wonder, that these two finished
Pieces have never been attempted before by any of our Countrymen. But
the Truth of it is, the Compositions of the Ancients, which have not in
them any of those unnatural Witticisms that are the Delight of ordinary
Readers, are extremely difficult to render into another Tongue, so as
the Beauties of the Original may not appear weak and faded in the
Translation.