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Hymn to Venus, with a translation of which I shall present my reader: Her hymn was ineffectual for the procuring that happiness which she prayed for in it. Phaon was still obdurate, and Sappho so transported with the violence of her passion, that she was resolved to get rid of it at any price.
There was a promontory in Acarnania called Leucate, on the top of which was a little temple dedicated to Apollo. In this temple it was usual for despairing lovers to make their vows in secret, and afterwards to fling themselves from the top of the precipice into the sea, where they were sometimes taken up alive. This place was therefore called, “ The Lover's Leap;" and whether or no the fright they had been in, or the resolution that could push them to so dreadful a remedy, or the bruises which they often received in their fall, banished all the tender sentiments of love, and gave their spirits another tum ; those who had taken this leap were observed never to relapse into that passion. Sappho tried the cure, but perished in the experiment.
After having given this short account of Sappho, 90 far as it regards the following ode, I shall subjoin the translation of it as it was sent me by a friend, whose admirable pastorals and Winter piece have been already so well received. The reader will find in it that pathetic simplicity which is so peculiar to him, and so suitable to the ode he has here translated. This ode in the Greek, besides those beauties observed by Madam Dacier, has several harmonious turns in the words, which are not lost in the English. I must farther add, that the translation has preserved every image and sentiment of Sappho, notwithstanding it has all the ease and spirit of an original. In a word, if the ladies have a mind to know the manner of writing practised by the so much celebrated Sappho, they may here see it in it's genuine and natural beauty, without any foreign or affected ornaments.
AN HYMN TO VENUS.
I. “ O Venus, beauty of the skies, " To whom a thousand temples rise, “ Gaily false in gentle smiles, “ Full of love perplexing wiles ; “ O goddess ! from my heart remove “ The wasting cares and pains of love.
II. " If ever thou hast kindly heard “ A song in soft distress preferr'd,
Propitious to my tuneful vow, “ O gentle goddess ! hear me now. “ Descend thou bright, immortal guest, “ In all thy radiant charms confest.
III. “ Thou once didst leave almighty Jove, «. And all the golden roofs above: “ The car 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.
IV. • The birds dismiss'd (while you remain) " Bore back their empty car again : “ Then you, with looks divinely mild, “ In ev'ry heav'nly feature smil'd, “ And ask'd what new complaints I made ** And why I call'd you to my aid ?
V. • What frenzy in my bosom rag'd, “ And by what cure to be assuag'd ? " What gentle youth I would allure, " Whom in my artful toils secure ? " Who does thy tender heart subdue, “ Tell me, my Sappho, tell me, who?
Madam Dacier observes, there is something very pretty in that circumstance of this ode, wherein Ve. nus is described as sending away her chariot upon her arrival at Sappho's lodgings, to denote that it was not a short transieat visit which she intended to make her. This ode was preserved by an eminent Greek critic, who inserted it entire in his works, as a pattern of perfection in the structure of it.
Longinus has quoted another ode of this great poetess, which is likewise admirable in its kind, and has been translated by the same hand with the foregoing one. I shall oblige my reader with it in another paper. In the mean while, I cannot but wonder, that these two finished pieces have never been attempted before by any of our own countrymen. But the truth of it is, the compositions of the ancients, which have not in them any of those unnatural witticisms that are the delight of ordinary readers, are extremely difficult to render into another tongue, so as the beauties of the original may not appear weak and faded in the translation.
IF we lock abroad upon the great multitude of mar kind, and endeavour to trace out the principles of action in every individual, it will, I think, seem highly probable that ambition runs through the whole species, and that every man in proportion to the vi. gour of his complexion is more or less actuated by it. It is indeed no uncommon thing to meet with men, who by the natural bent of their inclinations, and without the discipline of philosophy, aspire not to the heights of power and grandeur : who never set their hearts upon a numerous train of clients and des pendencies, nor other gay appendages of greatness; who are contented with a competency, and will not molest their tranquillity to gain an abundance ; but it is not therefore to be concluded that such a man is not ambitious : his desires may have cut out another channel, and determined him to other pursuits ; the motive however may be still the same ; and in these cases likewise the man may be equally pushed on with the desire of distinction.
Though the pure consciousness of worthy actions, abstracted from the views of popular applause, be to a generous mind an ample reward, yet the desire of distinction was doubtless implanted in our natures as an additional incentive to exert ourselves in virtuous excellence.
This passion indeed, like all others, is frequently perverted to evil and ignoble purposes; so that we may account for many of the excellencies and follies
ef life upon the same innate principle, to wit, the desire of being remarkable: for this, as it has been dif, ferently cultivated by education, study, and converse, will bring forth suitable effects as it falls in with an ingenuous disposition, or a corrupt mind; it does accordingly express itself in acts of magnanimity or selfish cunning, as it meets with a good or weak understanding. As it has been employed in embellishing the mind, or adorning the outside, it renders the man eminently praise-worthy or ridiculous. Ambition, therefore, is not to be confined only to one passion or pursuit; for as the same humours, in constitutions otherwise different, affect the body after different manhers, so the same aspiring principle within us sometimes breaks forth upon one object, sometimes upon another.
It cannot be doubted, but that there is as great a desire of glory in a ring of wrestlers or cudgel-players, as in any other more refined competition for superiority. No man that could avoid it, would ever suffer his head to be broken but out of a principle of honour. This is the secret spring that pushes them forward ; and the superiority which they gain above the undistinguished many, does more than repair those wounds they have received in the combat. It is Mr. Waller's opinion, that Julius Cæsar, had he not been master of the Roman empire, would in all probability have. made an excellent wrestler.
" Great Julius, on the mountains bred,
That he subdued the world, was owing to the acci.. dents of art and knowledge; had he not met with those advantages, the same sparks of emulation would have kindled within him, and prompted him to distinguish