XLVIII
Ἄστερες μὲν ἀμφι κάλαν σελάνναν
ἂψ ἀποκρύπτοισι φάεννον εἶδος,
ὄπποτα πλήθοισα μάλιστα λάμπῃ
γᾶν…
…ἀργυρία·
THE stars about the moon
Hide their bright face as soon
As she from circle fair
Lights up all earth and air
With silver, so that field,
Grove, terrace lie revealed
In the cold splendour, bare
Of darkness as at noon.
The Pleiades that shone
Before she rose are gone ;
Sweet Hesperus, the pride
Of nuptial eventide,
Is now obscure and pale ;
And straightway pine and fail
The planets at her side
That she has looked upon.
Erinna, loved of yore,
Loved ever more and more,
O queen of women, bright
As the pure orb of night,
When thou art with my maids
Their lesser beauty fades
In thy triumphant light;
They are not as before.
What makes thee gracious, dread
As Dian's maidenhead;
Why with thy nineteen years
Hast thou on earth no peers ;
Wherefore do lovers guess
That thou can'st heal and bless ;
And why do Sappho's tears
Fall thick upon thy head ?
Ah, child, I know the spell:
It is that, when my shell
Grows vocal to me, thou
Alone hast knowledge how
My heart within me fares ;
No other being shares
The secret hope, the vow
That in my bosom dwell.
Thou can'st, though young, reveal
To mortals what they feel,
If Cyprus' daughter deign
In dream to ease their pain ;
A poet, thou dost share
Gently each inner care,
And timid hearts in vain
From thee their wounds conceal.
This makes thy presence seem
As the full moon's supreme ;
Men recognize the sign,
And hail thee as divine,
As one who will live on,
When all the stars are gone,
That for a moment shine,
Then perish in thy beam.
