Madam Dacier takes Notice of a very pretty Circumstance in Sappho's Hymn to Venus, translated into Latin by Catullus, and into English by Mr. Philips.
Thou once didst leave Almighty Jove,
And all the golden Roofs above:
The Carre thy wanton Sparrows drew,
Hov'ring in Air, they lightly flew.
As to my Bow'r, they wing'd their Way
I saw their quiv'ring Pinions play:
The Birds dismist, while you remain,
Bore back their empty Carre again.
The Circumstance that renders it so pretty, according to the Critical Lady, is Venus's dismissing her Sparrows and her Carre, and shewing she did not intend to make Sappho a Court-Visit, but to dwell with her some Time. There's another Ode of Sappho, which is preserved in Longinus, and translated by Boileau. It is in the sublime Kind, and shews the Violence of Love.
From Vein to Vein I feel a subtle Flame,
When e'er I see thee, run thro' all my Frame:
And as the Transport seizes on my Mind,
I'm dumb, and neither Tongue nor Voice can find.
A Mist of Pleasure o'er my Eyes is spread,
I hear no more, and am to Reason dead;
Pale, breathless, speechless, I expiring lie,
I burn, I freeze, I tremble, and I die.
In the Spectator, No 388. is a Paraphrase on the second Chapter of Solomon's Song.
Stanza IV.
I faint, I dye, my lab'ring Breast
Is with the mighty Weight of Love opprest.
I feel the Fire possess my Heart,
And Pain convey'd to ev'ry Part:
Thro' all my Veins the Passion flyes,
My feeble Soul forsakes its Place;
A trembling Faintness seals my Eyes,
And Paleness dwells upon my Face.
To descend again to the lower Kinds of Thinking, I shall conclude the Pretty with these Verses of Mr. Prior's on the Squirrel in the Cage:
Mov'd in the Orb, pleas'd with the Chimes,
The foolish Creature thinks he climbs.
Bus here or there, turn Wood or Wire
He never gets two Inches higher.
So fares it with those merry Blades,
That frisk it under Pindus Shades.
In noble Songs, and lofty Odes,
They tread on Stars, and talk with gods;
Still dancing in an airy Round,
Still pleas'd with their own Verses Sound;
Brought back how fast soe'er they go,
Always aspiring, always low.