Sappho and Phaon: Sonnet XIV

COME, soft Æolian harp, while zephyr plays
Along the meek vibration of thy strings,
As twilight's hand her modest mantle brings,
Blending with sober grey the western blaze !
O ! prompt my Phaon's dreams with tend'rest lays,
Ere night o'ershade 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 am'rous dove ;
The mazy legions swarm on ev'ry 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.