Soon shall this scrip its precious load resign; Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear In all my griefs a more than equal share! Here, where no springs in murmurs break away, Or moss-crown'd fountains mitigate the day, In vain ye hope the green delights to know Which plains more blest, or verdant vales bestow: Here rocks alone, and tasteless sands are found; And faint and sickly winds for ever howl around. "Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, "When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!" Curst be the gold and silver which persuade Weak men to follow far fatiguing trade! The lily peace outshines the silver store; And life is dearer than the golden ore: Yet money tempts us o'er the desert brown, To every distant mart and wealthy town. Full oft we tempt the land, and oft the sea: And are we only yet repaid by thee? ---Ah! why was ruin so attractive made? Or why fond man so easily betray'd? Why heed we not, while mad we haste along, The gentle voice of peace, or pleasure's song? Or wherefore think the flowery mountain's side, The fountain's murmurs, and the valley's pride, Why think we these less pleasing to behold Than dreary deserts, if they lead to gold!' "Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, "When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!" O cease, my fears!--all frantic as I go, When thought creates unnumber'd scenes of woe, What if the lion in his rage I meet!--Oft in the dust I view his printed feet: And, fearful! oft, when day's declining light Yields her pale empire to the mourner night, By hunger rous'd he scours the groaning plain, Gaunt wolves and sullen tigers in his train : Before them Death with shrieks directs their way, Fills the wild yell, and leads them to their prey. "Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, "When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!" At that dead hour the silent asp shall creep, If aught of rest I find, upon my sleep : Or some swoln serpent twist his scales around, And wake to anguish with a burning wound. Thrice happy they, the wise contented poor, From lust of wealth, and dread of death secure! They tempt no deserts, and no griefs they find; Peace rules the day, where reason rules the mind. "Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, "When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!" O hapless youth!--for she thy love hath won-The tender Zara will be most undone! Big swell'd my heart, and own'd the powerful maid, Say, with a kiss, she must not, shall not mourn; Ile said, and call'd on heaven to bless the day When back to Schiraz' walls he bent his way. ECLOGUE III. Abra; or, the Georgian Sultana. Scene, a Forest. Time, the Evening. IN Georgia's land, where Tefflis' towers are seen, In distant view, along the level green, While evening dews enrich the glittering glade, What time 'tis sweet o'er fields of rice to stray, Of Abra first began the tender strain, Who led her youth with flocks upon the plain: Great Abbas chanc'd that fated morn to stray, That these flowers are found in very great abundance in some of the provinces of Persia; see the Modern History of Mr. Salmon. 1 The royal lover bore her from the plain,; Yet still her crook and bleating flock remain: Oft as she went she backward turn'd her view, And bade that crook and bleating flock adieu. Fair happy maid! to other scenes remove; To richer scenes of golden power and love! Go leave the simple pipe and shepherd's strain; With love delight thee, and with Abbas reign! "Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd; "And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd." Yet, 'midst the blaze of courts, she fix'd her love On the cool fountain, or the shady grove: Still, with the shepherd's innocence, her mind To the sweet vale, and flowery mead inclin'd; And, oft as spring renew'd the plains with flowers, Breath'd his soft gales, and led the fragrant hours, With sure return she sought the sylvan scene, The breezy mountains, and the forests green. Her maids around her mov'd, a duteous band! Each bore a crook, all-rural, in her hand : Some simple lay, of flocks and herds they sung; With joy the mountain and the forest rung. "Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd; "And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd." And oft the royal lover left the care Blest was the life that royal Abbas led: Sweet was his love, and innocent his bed. What if in wealth the noble maid excel? The simple shepherd girl can love as well. Let those who rule on Persia's jewell'd throne ECLOGUE IV. Agib and Secander; or, the Fugitives. Scene, a Mountain in Circassia. Time, Midnight. N fair Circassia, where, to love inclin'd, IN Each swain was blest, for every maid was kind; At that still hour when awful midnight reigns, And none but wretches haunt the twilight plains; What time the moon had hung her lamp on high, And past in radiance through the cloudless sky; Sad, o'er the dews, two brother shepherds fled Where wildering fear and desperate sorrow led: Fast as they prest their flight, behind them lay Wide ravag'd plains; and vallies stole away: Along the mountain's bending sides they ran, Till, faint and weak, Secander thus began. SECANDER. O stay thee, Agib, for my feet deny, Friend of my heart, O turn thee and survey! |