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 green 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 To -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? O cease, my When thought creates unnumber'd scenes of woe, What if the lion in his rage I meet! fears!all frantic as I go, Oft in the dust I view his printed feet: And, fearful! oft, when day's declining light 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, Safe o'er the wild, no perils may'st thou see; Say, with a kiss, she must not, shall not mourn; 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, While evening dews enrich the glittering glade, the plain : Of Abra first began the tender strain, C A various wreath of odorous flowers she made: 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; "Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd; * These flowers are found in very great abundance in some of the provinces of Persia. See Mr. Salmon's Modern History. |