Lingua sed torpet, tenuis sub artus
  Flamnia dimanat, sonitu suopte
  Tinniunt aures, gemina teguntur
       Lumina nocte.

My learned Reader will know very well the Reason why one of these Verses is printed in Roman Letter; [3] and if he compares this Translation with the Original, will find that the three first Stanzas are rendred almost Word for Word, and not only with the same Elegance, but with the same short Turn of Expression which is so remarkable in the Greek, and so peculiar to the Sapphick Ode.  I cannot imagine for what Reason Madam Dacier has told us, that this Ode of Sappho is preserved entire in Longinus, since it is manifest to any one who looks into that Authors Quotation of it, that there must at least have been another Stanza, which is not transmitted to us.

The second Translation of this Fragment which I shall here cite, is that of Monsieur Boileau.

  Heureux! qui pres de toi, pour toi seule soupire: 
  Qui jouit du plaisir de tentendre parler: 
  Qui te voit quelquefois doucement lui sourire. 
  Les Dieux, dans son bonheur, peuvent-ils legaler?

  Je sens de veine en veine une subtile flamme
  Courir par tout mon corps, si-tost que je te vois: 
  Et dans les doux transports, ou segare mon ame,
  Je ne scaurois trouver de langue, ni de voix.

  Un nuage confus se repand sur ma vue,
  Je nentens plus, je tombe en de douces langueurs;
  Et pale, sans haleine, interdite, esperdue,
  Un frisson me saisit, je tremble, je me meurs.

The Reader will see that this is rather an Imitation than a Translation.  The Circumstances do not lie so thick together, and follow one another with that Vehemence and Emotion as in the Original.  In short, Monsieur Boileau has given us all the Poetry, but not all the Passion of this famous Fragment.  I shall, in the last Place, present my Reader with the English Translation.

I. Blest as th’immortal Gods is he,
     The Youth who fondly sits by thee,
     And hears and sees thee all the while
     Softly speak and sweetly smile.

II.  Twas this deprived my Soul of Rest,
     And raised such Tumults in my Breast;
     For while I gaz’d, in Transport tost,
     My Breath was gone, my Voice was lost: 

III.  My Bosom glowed; the subtle Flame
     Ran quick through all my vital Frame;
     O’er my dim Eyes a Darkness hung;
     My Ears with hollow Murmurs rung.

IV.  In dewy Damps my Limbs were child;
     My Blood with gentle Horrors thrill’d;
     My feeble Pulse forgot to play;
     I fainted, sunk, and dy’d away.

Instead of giving any Character of this last Translation, I shall desire my learned Reader to look into the Criticisms which Longinus has made upon the Original.  By that means he will know to which of the Translations he ought to give the Preference.  I shall only add, that this Translation is written in the very Spirit of Sappho, and as near the Greek as the Genius of our Language will possibly suffer.