O stay thee, Agib, for my feet deny, Асів. Weak as thou art, yet hapless must thou know SECANDER. Unhappy land, whose bleffings tempt the sword, Far off, in thoughtless indolence refign'd, Soft dreams of love and pleasure footh his mind; 'Midft fair fultanas loft in idle joy, No wars alarm him, and no fears annoy. AGIB. Yet these green hills, in fummer's fultry heat, Have lent the monarch oft a cool retreat. Sweet to the fight is Zabran's flowery plain, And once by maids and fhepherds lov'd in vain! No more the virgin fhall delight to rove By Sargis' banks, or Irwan's fhady grove; On Tarkie's mountain catch the cooling gale, Or breathe the fweets of Aly's flowery vale: Fair scenes! but, ah; no more with peace poffeft, With eafe alluring, and with plenty bleft. No more the shepherd's whitening tents appear, Nor the kind products of a bounteous year; No more the date, with fnowy bloffoms crown'd! But ruin fpreads her baleful fires around. SECANDER. In vain Circaffia boafts her spicy groves, For ever fam'd for pure and happy loves: In vain the boafts her fairest of the fair, Their eye's blue languish, and their golden hair! Thofe eyes in tears their fruitless grief must send Those hairs the Tartar's cruel hand fhall rend. ; AGIB. Ye Georgian fwains that piteous learn from far Some weightier arms than crooks and staffs prepare, Wild as his land, in native deserts bred, The villain Arab, as he prowls for prey, Oft marks with blood and wafting flames the way; To death enur'd, and nurs'd in fcenes of woe. He faid; when loud along the vale was heard AN ODE то FEAR. BY THE SAME. HOU, to whom the world unknown Ah Fear! ah frantic Fear! I fee, I fee thee near. I know thy hurried ftep, thy haggard eye! For, lo what monsters in thy train appear! EPODE. In earliest Greece, to thee, with partial choice, Silent and pale in wild amazement hung. Yet he, the Bard* who firft invok'd thy name, For not alone he nurs'd the poet's flame, But reach'd from Virtue's hand the patriot's fteel. * Æfchylus. But a But who is he, whom later garlands grace, Who left a while o'er Hybla's dews to rove, With trembling eyes thy dreary steps to trace, Where thou and Furies shar'd the baleful grove ? Wrapt in thy cloudy veil th' inceftuous Queen * Sigh’d, the fad call her son and husband heard, When once alone it broke the filent scene, And he the wretch of Thebes no more appear’d. • O Fear, I know thee by my throbbing heart, Thy withering power inspir'd each mournful line, Tho' gentle Pity claim her mingled part, Yet all the thunders of the scene are thine! ANTISTROPHE. Thou who fuch weary lengths haft past, Where wilt thou rest, mad Nymph, at last? Say, wilt thou shroud in haunted cell, Where gloomy Rape and Murder dwell ? Or in some hollow'd feat, 'Gainst which the big waves beat, Hear drowning feamen's cries in tempests brought! Dark power, with shuddering meek submitted thought, Be mine, to read the visions old, Which thy awakening bards have told: And, left thou meet my blasted view, Hold each strange tale devoutly true; Ne'er be I found, by thee o'er-aw'd, In that thrice-hallow'd eve abroad, |