Page:Sappho and the Vigil of Venus (1920).djvu/37

Rh That wealth is an accursèd thing

Dislinked from goodness! Only when

These twain are wedded, happiness

True and abiding comes to bless

The fleeting life of dying men.

Fool!—yet not as in wrath I speak:

Not I on thee would vengeance wreak.

A quiet spirit dwells in me

That scorns to bruise such worms as thee.

Nay, but the inevitable Fate

Even now decrees thine after-state:—

When thou art dead, so shalt thou lie

Ever: thy very name shall die,

Thy sordid story not outlast

Thy burial; for no part thou hast

In Song-land's roses, whose perfume

Breathes life immortal, o'er the tomb

Triumphant. Unregarded all

Shalt thou stray lost in Hades' hall

Amidst the fameless dead forlorn,

A vile, ignoble thing of scorn!

Leda, 'tis told in ancient song,

Did one day light

On a strange treasure which among