Sappho and Phaon, by Mary Robinson, , at sacred-texts.com
Come, soft Aeolian harp, while zephyr plays
Along the meek vibration of thy strings,
As twilights hand her modest mantle brings,
Blending with sober grey, the western blaze!
O! prompt my Phaons dreams with tendrest lays,
Ere night oer shade thee with its humid wings,
While the lorn Philomel his sorrow sings
In leafy cradle, red with parting rays!
Slow let thy dulcet tones on ether glide,
So steals the murmur of the amrous dove;
The mazy legions swarm on evry side,
To lulling sounds the sunny people move!
Let not the wise their little world deride,
The smallest sting can wound the breast of Love.