For other English-language translations of this work, see Hymn to Venus (Sappho).
A HYMN TO VENUS.
(From Sappho).
O thou on broider'd throne, immortal Venus,
Daughter of Jove, wile-weaver, I beseech thee,
Not, not with pains, and not with troubles, weigh thou,
O Queen, my spirit;
But hither come, if ever thou aforetime
That voice of mine with heedful ear from far-off
Didst hear, and, having left thy Father's mansions
All-golden, camest
With chariot yoked; and thou wast drawn by beauteous
And fleeting sparrows, round the earth all-dusky
A-flapping fast their wings, from utmost heaven
Athwart the midmost;
And quickly they arrived; and thou, O blest one,
Thy smile displaying on thy face immortal,
Didst ask, why now again I grieved, and wherefore
Again I call'd thee,
And what I most desired, for me to happen,
With madding spirit. "Now again, what Charmer
Wouldst thou lead forth to be thy love? What person,
O Sappho, wrongs thee?
"For, even tho' one flies, one soon shall follow,
And, if one takes not gifts, one yet shall give them,
And, if one loves thee not, one soon shall love thee,
Howso unwilling."
Come now to me, and loosen me from cruel
Tangle of care, and, whatso to accomplish
My spirit seeks, accomplish; and thyself be
A fellow-fighter.
Daughter of Jove, wile-weaver, I beseech thee,
Not, not with pains, and not with troubles, weigh thou,
O Queen, my spirit;
But hither come, if ever thou aforetime
That voice of mine with heedful ear from far-off
Didst hear, and, having left thy Father's mansions
All-golden, camest
With chariot yoked; and thou wast drawn by beauteous
And fleeting sparrows, round the earth all-dusky
A-flapping fast their wings, from utmost heaven
Athwart the midmost;
And quickly they arrived; and thou, O blest one,
Thy smile displaying on thy face immortal,
Didst ask, why now again I grieved, and wherefore
Again I call'd thee,
And what I most desired, for me to happen,
With madding spirit. "Now again, what Charmer
Wouldst thou lead forth to be thy love? What person,
O Sappho, wrongs thee?
"For, even tho' one flies, one soon shall follow,
And, if one takes not gifts, one yet shall give them,
And, if one loves thee not, one soon shall love thee,
Howso unwilling."
Come now to me, and loosen me from cruel
Tangle of care, and, whatso to accomplish
My spirit seeks, accomplish; and thyself be
A fellow-fighter.
July, 1908.
[Note.—Nothing in literary history is so touching as the picture of "Sappho who broke off a fragment of her soul for us to guess at." The present poem is quoted by Dionysius of Halicarnassus as an example of the style which he calls "smooth and florid." I have not preserved the alternation of consonants and vowels, which is fine in Greek, but which is apt to be cloying in English.]