"Je vivrai eternellement."--_La vie de Sappho. Traduction de
Madame Dacier._
Nay--call me not thy rose--thine own sweet flower,
For oh, my soul to thy wild words is mute!
Leave me my gift of song--my glorious dower--
My hand unchanged, and free to sweep the lute.
Thus, when within the tomb thy memory slumbers,
Mine, mine will tie of those immortal names
Sung by the poet in undying numbers:
Call me not thine--I am the world's and fame's!
Were it not blissful, when from earth we sever,
To know that we shall leave, with bard and sage,
A name enrolled on fame's bright page forever--
A wonder, and a theme to after age!
Talk not of love! I know how, wasted, broken,
The trusting heart learns its sad lesson o'er--
Counting the roses Passion's lips have spoken,
Amid the thorns that pierce it to the core.
Oh, heart of mine! that when life's summer hour
For thee with love's bright blossoms hung the bough,
Too quickly found an asp beneath the flower--
And is naught left thee but ambition now?
Alas! alas! this brow its pride forsaking,
Would give the glory of its laurel crown
For one fond breast whereas to still its aching--
For one true heart that I might call mine own!
* * * * *
[FROM THE NATIONAL ERA.]