Ode to Aphrodite

Immortal Aphrodite of the broidered throne, daughter of Zeus, weaver of wiles, I pray thee break not my spirit with anguish and distress, O Queen.

But come hither, if ever before thou didst hear my voice afar, and listen, and leaving thy father's golden house earnest thou here, yoking thy chariot; and fair swift sparrows brought thee over the dark earth flapping thick wings through middle sky—soon they arrived; and thou, O blest one, smiling with immortal face, didst ask, what ails me now and why I call again and what my maddened heart most wishes.

Who is it now I must persuade to join thy friendship? Who wrongs thee, Sappho? For if she flies thee she shall soon pursue, if she refuses gifts she shall bring them, if she loves not soon shall she love though thou wouldst not.

Come to me now also, and free me from grievous cares, and all that my heart desires to accomplish, accomplish thou; be thyself my ally.