The speaker is Sappho herself, the legendary poet from Lesbos, calling out to Venus with the full force of her longing. Her lover Phaon is absent, and she aches for him — "still desir'd" even though he's gone. The poem is a prayer, not a calm one, but a fierce, tender request: bring him back to my arms. You hear the desperation in how she promises her warmest vows and a handcrafted wreath if the goddess will only grant this. The mood is a swirl of ecstasy and pain. Love isn't gentle here; it's "exulting" and restless, something that lifts and then leaves her shaken. There's a mythic echo in the background — wild rocks ringing with applause — which makes her private yearning feel enormous. Every line shimmers with that push-pull of rapture and heartache, as if she's trying to sing Phaon back into existence through sheer longing.
Sonnet XXXIV: Venus! To Thee — Summary
Venus! to thee, the Lesbian Muse shall sing, The song, which Myttellenian youths admir'd, when Echo, am'rous of the strain inspir'd, Bade the wild rocks with madd'ning plaudits ring! Attend my pray'r! O! Queen of rapture! bring To these fond arms, he, whom my soul has fir'd; From these fond arms remov'd; yet, still desir'd, Though love, exulting, spreads his varying wing! Oh! source of ev'ry joy! of ev'ry care Blest Venus! Goddess of the zone divine! To Phaon's bosom, Phaon's victim bear; So shall her warmest, tend'rest vows be thine! For Venus, Sappho shall a wreath prepare, And Love be crown'd, immortal as the Nine!