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 wonThe 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 implor'd 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 may'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;
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,
And the tall forests cast a longer shade,
What time 'tis sweet o'er fields of rice to stray,
Or scent the breathing maze 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 those willing flocks to lead, Where lilies rear them in the watery mead;

At length he found and wood the rural maid! The knew the monarch, and with fear oboyd.

Published December 1801 by John Sharpe, Piccadilly.