When sweet and blushing, like a virgin bride, Breathe on each flower, and bear their sweets away; Ye Persian dames, he said, to you belong, Boast but the worth Bassora's pearls display; Such are the maids, and such the charms they boast, By sense unaided, or to virtue lost. Self flattering sex! your hearts believe in vain That Love shall blind, when once he fires the swain ; Or hope a lover by your faults to win, As spots on ermine beautify the skin : Who seeks secure to rule, be first her care Blest were the days, when Wisdom held her reign, And shepherds sought her on the silent plain; With Truth she wedded in the secret grove, Immortal Truth, and daughters bless'd their love. O haste, fair maids! ye Virtues come away, Sweet Peace and Plenty lead you on your way! The balmy shrub for you shall love our shore, By Ind excell'd or Araby no more. Lost to our fields, for so the fates ordain, The dear deserters shall return again. Come thou, whose thoughts as limpid springs are clear, To lead the train, sweet Modesty appear: Here make thy court amidst our rural scene, And shepherd-girls shall own thee for their queen. Distrusting all, a wise, suspicious maid; But man the most-not more the mountain doe Holds the swift falcon for her deadly foe. Cold is her breast, like flowers that drink the dew; A silken veil conceals her from the view. No wild desires amidst thy train be known, And Love the last: by these your hearts approve; Thus sung the swain; and ancient legends say, The maids of Bagdat verified the lay: Dear to the plains, the Virtues came along, ECLOGUE II. HASSAN; OR, THE CAMEL DRIVER. Scene, THE DESERT.-Time, MID-DAY. IN silent horror o'er the boundless waste The beasts, with pain, their dusty way pursue, Shrill roar'd the winds, and dreary was the view! With desperate sorrow wild, th' affrighted man Thrice sigh'd, thrice struck his breast, and thus began: "Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, "When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!" Ah little thought I of the blasting wind, 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, ? "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, And fearful! oft, when day's declining light |