Thou burnest us; thy torches' flashing spires


    Ὀπταις ἄμμε.

    THOU burnest us ; thy torches' flashing spires, 
            Eros, we hail! 
    Thou burnest us, Immortal, but the fires 
            Thou kindlest fail : 
                   We die, 
    And thine effulgent braziers pale. 

    Ah, Phaon, thou who hast abandoned me, 
           Thou who dost smile 
    To think deserted Lesbos rings with thee, 
           A little while 
                 Gone by 
    There will be muteness in thine isle. 

    Even as a god who finds his temple-flame 
          Sunken, unfed, 
    Who, loving not the priestess, loves the fame 
          Bright altars spread, 
                Wilt sigh 
    To find thy lyric glory dead ? 

    Or will Damophyla, the lovely-haired, 
           My music learn, 
    Singing how Sappho of thy love despaired, 
           Till thou dost burn, 
                While I, 
    Eros ! am quenched within my urn ?