By hunger rous'd, he scours the groaning plain, 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 swollen 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 wonThe tender Zara will be most undone ! Big swell'd my heart, and own'd the powerful maid, No griefs endure; nor weep, false youth, like me.” Say, with a kiss, she must not, shall not, mourn; O! let me teach my heart to lose its fears, Recall'd by Wisdom's voice, and Zara's tears.' He 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 : At morn she came those willing flocks to lead, Where lilies rear them in the watery mead; From early dawn the livelong 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. * These flowers are found in very great abundance in some of the provinces of Persia. Great Abbas chanc'd 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 mov'd; And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd!' 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 forests 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 And thorns of state, attendant on the fair; Or sought the vale where first his heart was fir'd: A russet mantle, like a swain, he wore; And thought of crowns, and busy courts, no more. 'Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd; And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd!' Blest was the life that royal Abbas led: ECLOGUE IV. AGIB AND SECANDER; OR, THE FUGITIVES. SCENE-A MOUNTAIN IN CIRCASSIA. TIME, MIDNIGHT. Ix fair Circassia, where, to love inclin❜d, SECANDER. 'O stay thee, Agib, for my feet deny, No longer friendly to my life, to fly. Friend of my heart, O turn thee and survey! Trace our sad flight through all its length of way! And first review that long-extended plain, And yon wide groves, already pass'd with pain! Yon ragged cliff, whose dangerous path we tried! And last, this lofty mountain's weary side!' |