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Of all her compositions, but two now remain; which, fragments as they are,
shew by their uncommon sweetness and beauty, how worthily the praises of
the ancients were bestowed upon a poet, whom they even ventured to call the
tenth muse.
"Then came a dark browed spirit, on whose head
Laurel and withering roses loosely hung:
She held a harp, amongst whose chords her hand
Wandered for music--and it came. She sang
A song despairing, and the whispering winds
Seemed envious of her melody and streamed
Amidst the wires to rival her, in vain.
Short was the strain but sweet: methought it spoke
Of broken hearts, and still and moonlight seas,
Of love, and loneliness, and fancy gone,
And hopes decayed for ever: and my ear
Caught well remembered names, 'Leucadia's rock,'
At times, and 'faithless Phaon:' then the form
Passed not, but seemed to melt in air away:
This was the Lesbian Sappho."