She dips her plumes, and on the watery shore
Sings as the love-crazed Sappho sung of yore."
Barry Cornwall.
Of all her compositions, but two now remain; which, fragments as they are, shew by their uncommon sweetness and beauty, how worthily the praises of the ancients were bestowed upon a poet, whom they even ventured to call the tenth muse.
"Then came a dark browed spirit, on whose head
Laurel and withering roses loosely hung:
She held a harp, amongst whose chords her hand
Wandered for music—and it came. She sang
A song despairing, and the whispering winds