Soon did they now, as round the Well
They sat, beneath the rising moon--
And some with voice of awe would tell
Of midnight fays and nymphs who dwell
In holy founts--while some would time
Their idle lutes that now had lain
For days without a single strain;--
And others, from the rest apart,
With laugh that told the lightened heart,
Sat whispering in each other's ear
Secrets that all in turn would hear;--
Soon did they find this thoughtless play
So swiftly steal their griefs away,
That many a nymph tho' pleased the while,
Reproached her own forgetful smile,
And sighed to think she _could_ be gay.
Among these maidens there was one
Who to Leucadia[5] late had been--
Had stood beneath the evening sun
On its white towering cliffs and seen
The very spot where Sappho sung
Her swan-like music, ere she sprung
(Still holding, in that fearful leap,
By her loved lyre,) into the deep,
And dying quenched the fatal fire,
At once, of both her heart and lyre.
Mutely they listened all--and well
Did the young travelled maiden tell
Of the dread height to which that steep
Beetles above the eddying deep--[6]
Of the lone sea-birds, wheeling round
The dizzy edge with mournful sound--
And of those scented lilies found
Still blooming on that fearful place--
As if called up by Love to grace
The immortal spot o'er which the last
Bright footsteps of his martyr past!
While fresh to every listener's thought
These legends of Leucadia brought
All that of Sappho's hapless flame
Is kept alive, still watcht by Fame--
The maiden, tuning her soft lute,
While all the rest stood round her, mute,
Thus sketched the languishment of soul,
That o'er the tender Lesbian stole;
And in a voice whose thrilling tone
Fancy might deem the Lesbian's own,
One of those fervid fragments gave,
Which still,--like sparkles of Greek Fire,
Undying, even beneath the wave,--
Burn on thro' Time and ne'er expire.
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