The story of Sappho and of Phaon has become almost, if not quite as well
known, as that of Hero and Leander. Sappho was celebrated for her beauty
and her poetical talents, all of which she bestowed in love on Phaon.
"A youth so shaped, with such a mien,
A form like that of Jove serene,
With sparkling eyes, and flowing hair,
And wit, that ever charms the fair."
He gave himself up for a time to the pleasure of her society, but man was
as fickle then as now, and he grew tired, even conceiving a disdain for her
who had so quickly given herself to his arms.
To a mind like Sappho's, finely wrought, as that of poets usually are, this
became insupportable; life was a burthen; song, now that the one had gone
whose praise she valued more than all beside, became neglected; and in a
fit of insupportable madness she threw herself into the sea.
"From Leucadia's promontory
Flung herself headlong for the Lesbian boy,
(Ungrateful he to work her such annoy;)
But time hath as in sad requital, given
A branch of laurel to her, and some bard
Swears that a heathen God or Goddess gave
Her swan-like wings wherewith to fly to heaven.
And now, at times, when gloomy tempests roar
Along the Adriatic, in the waves
She dips her plumes, and on the watery shore
Sings as the love-crazed Sappho sung of yore."