Page:Sappho and the Vigil of Venus (1920).djvu/35

Rh O Forest-maidens, smite on the breast,

Rend ye the delicate-woven vest!

Let the wail ring wild and high:

"Ah for Adonis!" cry.

O Sappho, how canst thou chant the bliss

Of Kypris—after such day as this?

"Oh Adonis, thou leavest me—woe for my lot!

And Eros, my servant, availeth me not!"

So wails Cytherea, grief-distraught.

"Who shall console me for thee? There is none—

Not Ares my god-lover, passionate one

Who sware in his jealousy forth to hale

Hephaestus my spouse from his palace, if he

Dared but to lift his eyes unto me.

Not he can console me, Adonis, for thee!"

Wail for Adonis, wail!

Dica, I love all dainty grace; and more

Than all I love the dainty grace of thee.

Love has the splendour of the sun for me,

The beauty that the sun's rays earthward pour.

I love not thy grace only: I adore

Wisdom, a thing divine; and there will be

Never a maid that shall the sun's light see

Who more than thou is dowered with wisdom's lore.