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Or wherefore think the flowery mountain's fide,
The fountain's murmurs, and the valley's pride,
Why think we these less pleafing to behold,
Than dreary deferts, if they lead to gold?

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Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, "When firft 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


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

At that dead hour the filent asp shall creep, If aught of reft I find, upon my fleep: Or fome swoln 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 tempt no deserts, and no griefs they find; Peace rules the day, where reafon rules the mind. "Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, "When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my way !”

O hapless youth! for fhe thy love hath won, The tender Zara will be moft undone !

Big fwell'd my heart, and own'd the powerful maid,
When faft she 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 thefe rejected fighs!
"Safe o'er the wild, no perils may'ft thou fee,
"No griefs endure, nor weep, false 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 bless the day, When back to Schiraz' walls he bent his way.








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 forests cast a longer shade,

What time 'tis fweet o'er fields of rice to ftray,
Or fcent the breathing maize at setting day;
Amidst the maids of Zagen's peaceful grove,
Emyra fung the pleafing 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 lillies rear them in the watery mead;
From early dawn the live-long hours fhe 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 fhe chofe,
The violet blue that on the mofs-bank grows
All-sweet to fenfe, the flaunting rofe was there :
The finish'd chaplet well-adorn'd her hair. ́

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Great Abbas chànc'd that fated morn to ftray,
By love conducted from the chace away;
Among the vocal vales he heard her fong,
And fought 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 ftill her crook and bleating flock remain
Oft as she went, fhe backward turn'd her view,
And bad that crook and bleating flock adieu.
Fair happy maid! to other scenes remove,
To richer scenes of golden power and love!
Go leave the fimple pipe, and fhepherd's ftrain;
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 midft the blaze of courts fhe fix'd her love On the cool fountain, or the fhady grove ; Still with the fhepherd'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 foft gales, and led the fragrant hours, With sure return fhe fought the fylvan 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 fimple lay of flocks and herds they fung;
With joy the mountain, and the foreft 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;
Oft to the fhades and low-roof'd cots retir'd,
Or fought the vale where first his heart was fir'd :
A ruffet mantle, like a fwain, 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!"

Bleft was the life, that royal Abbas led : Sweet was his love and innocent his bed. What if in wealth the noble maid excel ; The simple shepherd girl can love as well. Let those who rule on Perfia's jewell'd throne, Be fam'd for love, and gentleft love alone; Or wreathe, like Abbas, full of fair renown, The lover's myrtle with the warrior's crown. O happy days! the maids around her fay; O hafte, profuse of bleffings, hafte away! : "Be every youth, like royal Abbas mov'd, "And every Georgian maid like. Abra lov'd!” ECLOGUE

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