There is more eloquence in tears and kisses
Than in the smooth harangues of sly Ulysses.”[2]
In the letter of Sappho to her lover, Phaon, when he had forsaken her, and she had resolved upon suicide, we have a picture of that “sorrow’s crown of sorrow,” the remembrance in adversity of happier days:
“Yet once your Sappho could your cares employ,
Once in her arms you centred all your joy;
Still all those joys to my remembrance move,
For, oh, how vast a memory has love!
My music then you could forever hear,
And all my words were music to your ear;
You stopped with kisses my enchanting tongue,