Page:The Works of Alexander Pope (1717).djvu/313
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SAPHO to PHAON.
277
Nor be with all those tempting words abus'd,
Those tempting words were all to Sapho us'd.
And you that rule Sicilia's happy plains,
Have pity, Venus, on your Poet's pains!
Shall fortune still in one sad tenor run,
And still increase the woes so soon begun?
Enur'd to sorrows from my tender years,
My parent's ashes drank my early tears.
My brother next, neglecting wealth and fame,
Ignobly burn'd in a destructive flame.
An infant daughter late my griefs increast,
And all a mother's cares distract my breast.
Alas, what more could fate itself impose,
But thee, the last and greatest of my woes?
No more my robes in waving purple flow,
Nor on my hand the sparkling diamonds glow,
No more my locks in ringlets curl'd diffuse
The costly sweetness of Arabian dews,
Nor braids of gold the vary'd tresses bind,
That fly disorder'd with the wanton wind:
Those tempting words were all to Sapho us'd.
And you that rule Sicilia's happy plains,
Have pity, Venus, on your Poet's pains!
Shall fortune still in one sad tenor run,
And still increase the woes so soon begun?
Enur'd to sorrows from my tender years,
My parent's ashes drank my early tears.
My brother next, neglecting wealth and fame,
Ignobly burn'd in a destructive flame.
An infant daughter late my griefs increast,
And all a mother's cares distract my breast.
Alas, what more could fate itself impose,
But thee, the last and greatest of my woes?
No more my robes in waving purple flow,
Nor on my hand the sparkling diamonds glow,
No more my locks in ringlets curl'd diffuse
The costly sweetness of Arabian dews,
Nor braids of gold the vary'd tresses bind,
That fly disorder'd with the wanton wind:
For