Sappho and Phaon: Sonnet XXIX

FAREWELL, ye tow'ring cedars, in whose shade,
Lull'd by the nightingale, I sunk to rest,
While spicy breezes hover'd o'er my breast
To fan my cheek, in deep'ning tints array'd ;
While am'rous insects, humming round me, play'd,
Each flow'r forsook, of prouder sweets in quest;
Of glowing lips, in humid fragrance drest,
That mock'd the sunny Hybla's vaunted aid !
Farewell, ye limpid rivers ! oh ! farewell !
No more shall Sappho to your grots repair;
No more your white waves to her bosom swell,
Or your dank weeds entwine her floating hair ;
As erst, when Venus in her sparry cell
Wept, to behold a brighter goddess there!