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The Poems of Sappho, by John Myers O'Hara, [1910], at sacred-texts.com
Gorgo, I am weary
Of thy love's insistence,
Thou to me appearest
An ill-favored child.
Though I am than Gello
Fonder still of virgins,
Toward thee I have never
Felt the least desire.
Yesternight I knew not
What to do, for pity
Moved my bosom deeply,
Seeing thee implore.
Harassed by alternate
Yielding and refusal,
I was half persuaded
Then to grant thy prayer.
At my door thy presence
Lingers like a shadow;
Vain wouldst thou reproach me
With appealing eyes.
Dost thou think by constant
Proofs of lasting passion,
Slowly my obdurate
Will to wear away?
Gorgo, I am weary
Of thy love's insistence,
And my strength exhausted
Grants thy wish at last.