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Whose light had once been as the light of heaven!— Others breathed winning flatteries—she turned A careless hearing—but when Phaon spoke, Her heart beat quicker, and the crimson light Upon her cheek gave a most tender answer. . . . She loved with all the ardour of a heart Which lives but in itself: her life had passed Amid the great creations of the mind: Love was to her a vision—it was now Heightened into devotion. . . . But a soul So gifted and so passionate as her's Will seek companionship in vain, and find Its feelings solitary. . . . Phaon soon Forgot the fondness of his Lesbian maid; And Sappho knew that genius, riches, fame, May not soothe slighted love. - - - -