The Poems of Sappho, by John Myers O'Hara, , at sacred-texts.com
Haughtier than thou, O fair Erinna,
I have never met with any maiden.
Such a careless scorn as thine for passion
Proves a dire affront to Aphrodite.
When with soft desire she wounds thy bosom,
Thou shalt know love's pain and doubly suffer.
Keep the gifts I gave thee, long rejected;
Fabrics for thy lap from far Phocea,
Babylonian unguents, scented sandals,
And the costly mitra for thy tresses;
Tripods worked in brass to flank the altar
With the ivory figure of the Goddess;
Where the sacrificial fumes from sacred
Flames shall rise to gladden and appease her,
In the hour when at her call thy fervid
Breast and mouth to mine shall be relinquished.