WHEN evening came, around the well They sate, beneath the rising moon, And some, with voice of awe could tell Of midnight's fays and nymphs who dwell In holy fountains; some would tune Their lutes to sounds of softest close, To tell of Sappho's love and woes. Among these maidens there was one Who to Leucadia 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; Of the lone sea birds, wheeling round The dizzy edge with mournful sound; And of the scented lilies, (some Of whose white flowers, the damsel said Herself had gathered, and brought home In memory of the minstrel maid ,) Still blooming on that fearful place. |