(Lord Naeves)
Tullius Laureas, who wrote both in Greek and Latin about 60 B.C., puts into her mouth the following: “When you pass my Aeolian grave, stranger, call not the songstress of Mytilene dead. For ’tis true this tomb was built by the hands of men, and such works of humankind sink swiftly into oblivion; yet if you ask after me for the sake of the holy Muses from each of whom I have taken a flower for my posy of nine, you shall know that I have escaped the darkness of Death, and no sun shall ever rise that keepeth not the name of the lyrist Sappho.” (Edmonds, with variations.)
Posidippus[7] (250 B.C.) says:
Sappho’s white, speaking pages of dear song
Yet linger with us and will linger long.
(T. Davidson)
Horace[8] says:
vivuntque commissi calores
Aeoliae fidibus puellae.