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Swiftly they vanished, leaving thee, O Goddess!
Smiling, with face immortal in its beauty,
Asking why I grieved, and why in utter longing
I had dared call thee;
Asking what I sought, thus hopeless in desiring,
'Wildered in brain, and spreading nets of passion—
Alas, for whom? and saidst thou, “Who has harmed thee?
O my poor Sappho!
“Though now he flies, ere long he shall pursue thee;
Fearing thy gifts, he too in turn shall bring them;
Loveless to-day, to-morrow he shall woo thee,
Though thou shouldst spurn him.”
Thus seek me now, O holy Aphrodite!
Save me from anguish, give me all I ask for,--
Gifts at thy hand! And thine shall be the glory,
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