An Inconstant Lover, called Phaon, occasioned great Calamities to this Poetical Lady.  She fell desperately in Love with him, and took a Voyage into Sicily in Pursuit of him, he having withdrawn himself thither on purpose to avoid her.  It was in that Island, and on this Occasion, she is supposed to have made the 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 Leucrate [1] 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 Lovers 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 Turn; 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 so 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. [2] The Reader will find in it that Pathetick 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 its 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,
      Gayly false in gentle Smiles,
      Full of Loves 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.