Share via Share via... Twitter Facebook Pinterest WhatsAppRecent ChangesSend via e-MailPrintPermalink × Sappho on the Cliff SAPPHO ON THE CLIFF. A Tragic Monologue by FAITH BALDWIN. Return not yet, thou golden-sandalled Dawn, For, with Thy rosy coming, I depart! Sweet, tarry yet awhile beyond the vast, Far portal of the sky; and fear to flood All Lesbos with Thy beauty lest too soon Thou dawn upon the last, strong-winged flight Of one wild, wayward bird! In this still hour Wherein I bid farewell to Love and Pain, Wherein I bid farewell to Joy and Love, My vision clears! Zeus, in Thy pity stoop To steel Thy daughter's heart! Thou, Atropos, I rob Thee of Thy shears and with the hand Which hath caressed to soaring ecstasy Beloved heart strings; with the hand which set High, singing words upon the singing wood To lure it from the music of the trees, I cut the slender, scarlet thread of that Which was my life; nay, Atropos, not Thine The final right to hush the longing lips Which Love hath bruised immortally to song! I, Sappho, singer of Aegean Seas Took from the hands of Zeus, Omnipotent, His blessing and His curse — Mortality! Bold was my taking; and I greatly dared To make of Life a crimson, joyous thing To weave into the stainless warp and woof The gold of song, the purple of desire Which bit like acid to the fabric's core. Life, as I made it, would destroy me now. I give it back, Oh Zeus, Thy bitter gift! For I am wearied of the harried flesh, Flesh all too frail, and all too deeply seared By that flame-spirit warring in its walls! Farewell, my Lesbos! green and wave-kissed gem Set in a turquoise sea. I owe Thee much; Thou gavest me Beauty which hath fed my soul, Thou gavest me Love to wrack and tear my heart. I have repaid Thy bounty with the songs Which men shall read long after I am gone And, reading, love Thee for Thy Beauty's sake And for her sake who was the Lesbian. As, olive-crowned, ah, shining Mitylene, Shake not my stern resolve; but bloom more fair For that Thy Sappho lingering, is loath To leave Thy sunlit hills and garden ways. Thou Lesbian cliff starred with the vivid gold Of far-flung jonquil wealth; and piercing sweet With rosemary and myrtle, I have walked Thy winding paths beneath soft, twilight skies And hand and hand with Love I, mute, have watched The opal sheen of Hesperus; and stayed To hearken to the music of the stars. And in far dawns I touched the lyre's loud strings To waken Love with Song, and, singing, saw The white-sailed boats drift down the rose-red glow Dawn's ardent kiss left in the crystal heart Of blue translucent waves! Oh! Lesbian woods! No more I walk your scented paths to see The laughing dryad leaping from the oak. No more I strain to catch the golden sound Of Pan's far pipes of singing wind and tree And silver running stream. No more I hear The raptured choral of Song's feathered priests! Farewell, Aeolian Isle! And farewell those I loved within Thy shelter and embrace: Loved, held and — lost! Not theirs the ultimate, The final fault, not theirs, alas, but mine. Yet stay! Not wholly mine; for lo! the Gods Breathed with a subtle breath upon my soul. I was not wholly Lover; for the Will To sing of Love half robbed Love of its joy. So some small wide-eyed child will pluck a rose And scatter one by one the delicate, The bruised petals to his careless feet. I was not wholly Poet; for the Will To Love did blind my spirit's god-clear eyes With kisses and with tears and mist o'dreams, Till I but vaguely saw beyond the flesh. Farewell! The pale cheek of the waking sky Caressed by Dawn's pink fingers, flushes red. I go to lay my tortured, fevered heart Upon the last heart that shall throb against Its pulsing passion and its vast despair! Thy arms are waiting, Sea! enfold, embrace The weary frame, and cradle me to sleep. Thy breast is cool and pure of all desire Thy kiss is Peace and Thy possession — Death! Ah, bury deep my singing and my love! Well may it be that in some future age, A poet lying on some far white shore Shall hearken to Thy messengers, the waves And catch a distant mournful melody — “I loved thee, Atthis, in a by-gone day,” And mayhap he who hears will understand How Sappho, faithless, could not bear to live Thus lacking Faith! Farewell, oh Cyprian! Thou white-armed Aphrodite, Fare-Thee-well! Grant, I implore Thee, this my last request, Fulfilment of my love for gracious Death, As Thou hast granted Love of Love and Life Zeus, have Thou Mercy! And, Thou Lover Sea Rise up to take me, here on Leukatas, Here on the white and wave-engirdled cliff With that bright wine of my impassioned days, The dregs of which are failure. Thus I pour My last libation to the waiting Gods! {96} Previous | Top | Issue 3, March 1918 Thelema If you have found this material useful or enlightening, you may also be interested in Thelema Liber Legis, The Book of the Law Ordo Templi Orientis A∴A∴ Trademark Ordo Templi Orientis, O.T.O., and the O.T.O. Lamen design are registered trademarks of Ordo Templi Orientis. Copyright All copyrights on Aleister Crowley material are held by Ordo Templi Orientis. This site is not an official O.T.O. website, and is neither sponsored by nor controlled by Ordo Templi Orientis. The text of this Aleister Crowley material is made available here only for personal and non-commercial use. This material is provided here in a convenient searchable form as a study resource for those seekers looking for it in their research. For any commercial use, please contact Ordo Templi Orientis. Last modified: 2021/06/18 15:47by John Bell