Page images
PDF
EPUB

Thus fung the fwain; and ancient legends fay,

The maids of Bagdat verified the lay:

Dear to the plains, the virtues came along,

The shepherds lov'd, and Selim blefs'd his fong.

[blocks in formation]

IN

The driver Haffan with his camels paft: One cruise of water on his back he bore, And his light fcrip contain'd a scanty store; A fan of painted feathers in his hand, To guard his fhaded face from fcorching fand. The fultry fun had gain'd the middle sky, And not a tree, and not an herb was nigh; The beafts, with pain, their dufty way pursue, Shrill roar'd the winds, and dreary was the view! With defperate forrow wild, th' affrighted man Thrice figh'd, thrice ftruck his breast, and thus began: "Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day, "When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!"

Ah! little thought I of the blafting wind,
The thirft or pinching hunger that I find !
Bethink thee, Haffan, where shall thirst afswage,
When fails this cruife, his unrelenting rage?
Soon fhall this fcrip its precious load refign;
Then what but tears and hunger fhall be thine?

Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear
In all my griefs a more than equal share!
Here, where no fprings in murmurs break away,
Or mofs-crown'd fountains mitigate the day,
In vain ye hope the green delights to know,
Which plains more bleft, or verdant vales bestow ;
Here rocks alone, and tasteless fands are found,
And faint and fickly winds for ever howl around.

"Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day,
"When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!

Curft be the gold and filver which persuade
Weak men to follow far-fatiguing trade!
The lilly peace outshines the filver store,
And life is dearer than the golden ore:
Yet money tempts us o'er the defert brown,
To every distant mart and wealthy town.
Full oft we tempt the land, and oft the fea :
And are we only yet repay'd by thee?
Ah! why was ruin fo attractive made,
Or why fond man so easily betray'd?

יי!

Why

Why heed we not, while mad we haste along,
The gentle voice of peace, or pleasure's fong?
Or wherefore think the flowery mountain's fide,
The fountain's murmurs, and the valley's pride,
Why think we thefe lefs pleafing to behold,
Than dreary deferts, if they lead to gold?
"Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day,
"When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!"

O ceafe, 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 duft 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 fcours the groaning plain,
Gaunt wolves and fullen tygers in his train:
Before them death with fhrieks directs their way,
Fills the wild yell, and leads them to their prey.
"Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day,
"When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!"

At that dead hour the filent afp fhall creep,
If aught of reft I find, upon my fleep:
Or fome fwoln ferpent twift his fcales around,
And wake to anguish with a burning wound.
Thrice happy they, the wife contented poor,
From luft of wealth, and dread of death fecure!

They

They tempt no deferts, and no griefs they find; Peace rules the day, where reafon rules the mind. "Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day, "When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my way !? O hapless youth! for the thy love hath won, The tender Zara will be moft undone !

Big fwell'd my heart, and own'd the powerful maid, When faft fhe dropt her tears, as thus she said: "Farewel the youth, whom fighs could not detain, "Whom Zara's breaking heart implor'd in vain! "Yet as thou go'ft, may every blast arise "Weak and unfelt as these rejected fighs!

"Safe o'er the wild, no perils may'st thou fee,
"No griefs endure, nor weep, falfe youth, like me."
O let me fafely to the fair return,

Say with a kifs, fhe muft not, fhall not mourn;
O let me teach my heart to lose its fears,
Recall'd by wisdom's voice, and Zara's tears.

He faid, and call'd on heaven to blefs the day,
When back to Schiraz' walls he bent his way.

ECLOGUE

I

ECLOGUE III.

ABRA; OR, THE GEORGIAN

SCENE, A FOREST.

SULTANA.

TIME, THE EVENING.

N Georgia's land, where Tefflis' towers are feen,
In diftant view along the level green,

While evening dews enrich the glittering glade,
And the tall forefts caft a longer fhade,

What time 'tis fweet o'er fields of rice to ftray,
Or fcent the breathing maize at fetting day;
Amidst the maids of Zagen's peaceful grove,
Emyra fung the pleafing cares of love.

Of Abra first began the tender ftrain,

Who led her youth with flocks upon the plain :
At morn fhe came thofe willing flocks to lead,
Where lillies rear them in the watery mead;
From early dawn the live-long hours she told,
Till late at filent eve fhe penn'd the fold.
Deep in the grove, beneath the secret shade,
A various wreath of odorous flowers fhe made:
Gay-motley'd pinks and fweet jonquils the chofe,
The violet blue that on the mofs-bank grows;

All

« PreviousContinue »