Throned in splendor, deathless, O Aphrodite,
child of Zeus, charm-fashioner, I entreat you not with griefs and bitternesses to break my spirit, O goddess; standing by me rather, if once before now far away you heard, when I called upon you, left your father's dwelling place and descended, yoking the golden chariot to sparrows, who fairly drew you down in speed aslant the black world, the bright air trembling at the heart to the pulse of countless fluttering wingbeats. Swiftly then they came, and you, blessed lady, smiling on me out of immortal beauty, asked me what affliction was on me, why I called thus upon you, what beyond all else I would have befall my tortured heart: "Whom then would you have Persuasion force to serve desire in your heart? Who is it, Sappho, that hurt you? Though she now escape you, she soon will follow; though she take not gifts from you, she will give them: though she love not, yet she will surely love you even unwilling." In such guise come even again and set me free from doubt and sorrow; accomplish all those things my heart desires to be done; appear and stand at my shoulder. |
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