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A DREAM OF SAPPHO.

THE range of rocks which forms the "Leucadian Promontory," on one side shelving to the sea's brink and clothed with greenish heather, on the other fearfully precipitous and of the purest chalk, reminds you much more forcibly of the dread with which of old they filled the approaching mariner than of their anti-erotic powers of purgation. The Temple of Apollo, which stood near its extremity, seems to have had reference to both these purposes. Even when the edifice no longer remained to receive the offerings and adjurations of the trembling seamen, a record of the religion of the place was left; and, in these late days, Kendrick mentions that he saw the sailors cast obols into the sea to propitiate the present power. It is also no bad illustration of the different ways in which faith sways the minds of men, that, with regard to the more marvellous function of this sacred shore, lovers, in the cooler stage of Grecian mythology, no longer undertook the ordeal leap, but were content to court the favour of the god by the same safe method of pecuniary oblation. The origin and meaning of the fable itself is most obscure.

The gods did not make the Jupiter used it with infallible

miracle, but found it there; success :-this was all Apollo could tell Venus about it, when she asked him the reason of the immediate cessation of her love for Adonis, on leaping from this rock into her native element, and we cannot be expected to know more. But the

*Formidatus nautis. Vir. Æn. iii. 272.

mystery is greatly increased when the experiment passes from divine to mortal adventurers; for that any one of merely human capabilities could jump from any part of this line of cliff, without being dashed to pieces against the rocks below by the fall itself and the raving surge seems quite impossible, even though the devotee were winged or feathered with all the skill of mechanical art. Sappho, the half-goddess, is the first mortal on record who made the trial, and her attempt is followed by that of many of less noble fame of both sexes with various success. In her legend, which is fresh among the people, Phaon is of course the King of the island, and the Poetess a foreign Queen. He slights her passion, and she wanders over the hills in agony of heart; heedless of her steps she falls over the precipice. Another version makes her a "duchessa," to account in a popular way for the Venetian name of the "Doge's Point" (Capo Ducato), which the promontory now bears. Perhaps the adjoining bay and village of "Basilike" may have some connexion with the memory of Queen Artemisia, another heroine of "the leap ;" and the ancient worship of the sun-god have something to do with the selection of "St. Elias," as the saint peculiarly reverenced in the island, in the same manner as Bellerophon speeding his northward flight in quest of the Chimæra has, in its heraldic distinction, assumed the form of "St. George on horseback.

THE mariners were all asleep,

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Save one half-dreaming at the stern,
Who gently bade me upward turn
My eyes, long gazing on the deep.
The wind had stol'n away,- -our skiff
Rested, as if its sails were furled,
Upon the tide which softly curled

Around a triple-breasted cliff,

Whose steeps, in mistiest day-time bright,
Were almost above nature white,
Bare-fronted to the westering moon,

For the autumn night had past its noon.

I prayed that not a soul might wake,—
To be left utterly alone,—

That not the faintest human tone,

The silence of that time might break;

When, as of old the alien maids,

Who sanctified Dodona's shades,

Drew out the tale of human fate,
From sounds of things inanimate,

Wont with inclinèd ear to listen,

Where branches rock or fountains rise,

Till high intelligences glisten

In their intense Egyptian eyes,So I began, in that light breeze, Glancing along those noted seas,

To trace a harmony distinct,

A meaning in each change of tone, And sound to sound more strangely linkt, Than in my awe I dared to own :— But when in clearer unison

That marvellous concord still went on,

And, gently as a blossom grows,

A frame of syllables uprose,

With a delight akin to fear

My heart beat fast and strong, to hear
Two murmurs beautifully blent,

As of a voice and instrument,-
A hand laid lightly on low chords,-

A voice that sobbed between its words.

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Stranger! the voice that trembles in your ear,

You would have placed, had you been fancy-free, First in the chorus of the happiest sphere,

The home of deified mortality:

"Stranger, the voice that trembles here below, While in your life, enjoyed a fame so loud, That utmost nations listened to its flow,

And of its presence the old Earth was proud:

"Stranger, the voice is Sappho's,-weep, oh! weep, That the soft tears of sympathy may fall

Into this prison of the sunless deep,

Where I am laid in miserable thrall.

"Not of my mortal pride, my mortal woe

Would I now speak ;-there is no gentle maid, Nor youth kind-hearted, but has sighed to know, What was my love and how it was repaid!

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"I had dear friends, who wept with bitter tears, To watch my spirit's stream, which else had run, In fulness and delight, its course of years,

Wasted and parched by that relentless sun.

"Of this far rock, and its miraculous power,
They heard, emmarvelled, and with sedulous prayer
Conjured me not to lose one precious hour,
But seek the cure of all my misery there.

"The Gods,' they argued in their fond esteem,
'Love their harmonious daughter far too well,
Not to pour forth on her diseased dream
The benediction of that soothing spell.

"When many a one, whose name will never shine On after ages, there has found release,

How shall not she, already half divine,
Claim the same gift of spiritual peace ?'

"I told them, "Thousands in that chilly deep

Might find relief from their weak hearts' annoy :— Venus herself might try the counselled leap, And rise oblivious of her hunter-boy;

"The mystery of the place might moderate The authentic passion of imperial Jove, But did they hope for me that common fate,

They could know nothing of a Poet's love.'

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