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 ?