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And Love, the last : by these your hearts approve,
These are the virtues that must lead to love.'

Thus sung the swain; and ancient legends say,
The maids of Bagdat verified the lay:
Dear to the plains, the Virtues came along,
The shepherds loved, and Selim bless'd his song.



Scene—The Desert. T'ime—Mid-day.
Ix silent horror v'er the boundless waste
The driver Hassan with his camels past;
One cruise of water on his back he bore,
And his light scrip contain'd a scanty store;
A fan of painted feathers in his hand,
To guard his shaded face from scorching sand.
The sultry sun had gain'd the middle sky,
And not a tree, and not an herb was nigh;
The beasts, with pain, their dusty way pursue,
Shrill roard the winds, and dreary was the view !
With desperate sorrow wild, th' affrighted man
Thrice sigb'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,
The thirst or pinching hunger that I find !
Bethink thee, Hassan, where shall thirst assuage,
When fails this cruise, his unrelenting rage ?
Soon shall this scrip its precious load resign ;
Then what but tears and hunger shall be thine ?

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 dear 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 tempi 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!

Oh 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 roused, 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 dread 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!

, 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,
When fast she dropt her tears, as thus she said :
“ Farewell the youth whom sighs could not detain,
Whom Zara's breaking heart implored in vain !
Yet as thou go'st may every blast arise
Weak and unfelt, as these rejected sighs !
Safe o'er the wild, no perils ay'st thou see,
No griefs endure, nor weep, false youth, like me !
O let me safely to the fair return,
Say, with a kiss, she must not, shall not mourn ;
0! let me teach my heart to lose its fears,
Recall'd by Wisdom's voice, and Zara's tears !
He said ; and callid on Heaven to bless the day
When back to Schiraz' walls he bent his way.

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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,
And the tall forests cast a longer shade,
What time 'tis sweet o'er fields of rice to stray,
Or scent the breathing maize at setting day ;
Amidst the maids of Zagen's peaceful grove,
Emyra sung the pleasing cares of love.
Of Abra first began the tender strain,
Who led her youth with flocks upon the plain :
At morn she came her willing flocks to lead,
Where lilies rear them in the watery mead;

From early dawn the live-long hours she told,
Till late at silent eve she penn'd the fold.
Deep in the grove, beneath the secret shade,
A various wreath of odorous flowers she made :
*Gay-motley'd pinks and sweet jonquils she chose,
The violet blue that on the moss-bank grows;
All sweet to sense, the flaunting rose was there :
The finish'd chaplet well adorn'd her hair.

Great Abbas chanced that fated morn to stray,
By Love conducted from the chase away;
Among the vocal vales he heard her song,
And sought, the vales and echoing groves among :
At length he found, and woo'd the rural maid ;
She knew the monarch, and with fear obey'd.

Be every youth like royal Abbas moved,
And every Georgian maid like Abra loved !'
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 moved,
And every Georgian maid like Abra loved !'

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 inclined; And oft as Spring renew'd the plains with flowers, Breathed 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 moved, 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 moved, And every Georgian maid like Abra loved !" * These flowers are found in very great abundance in some of the provinces of Persia.

And oft the royal lover left the care And thorns of state, attendant on the fair; Oft to the shades and low-roof'd cots retired, Or sought the vale where first his heart was fired : A russet mantle, like a swain, he wore, And thought of crowns and busy courts ìo more.

'Be every youth like royal Abbas moved,
And every Georgian maid like Abra loved !'

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
Be famed for love, and gentlest love alone;
Or wreath, like Abbas, full of fair renown,
The lover's myrtle with the warrior's crown.
O happy days! the maids around her say;
O haste, profuse of blessings, haste away!

* Be every youth like royal Abbas moved,
And every Georgian maid like Abra loved !!



FUGITIVES. Scene-A Mountain in Circassia. T'ime–Midnight. Ix fair Circassia, where, to love inclined, 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 Wild ravaged plains, and valleys stole away. Along the mountain's bending sides they ran, Till, faint and weak, Secander thus began :

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