IN The driver, Haffan, with his camels past: One cruise of water on his back he bore, And his light fcrip contain'd a fcanty 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 purfue, Shrill roar'd the winds, and dreary was the view! With defperate forrow wild, th' affrighted man Thrice figh'd, thrice ftruck his breaft, and thus began; "Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day, When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!" Ah! little thought I of the blafting wind, The thirst, or pinching hunger that I find! Bethink thee, Haffan, where shall Thirst affwage, "Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, Why heed we not, while, mad, we hafte along, "Sad "Sad was the hour, and lucklefs 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 shrieks directs their way, Fills the wild yell, and leads them to their prey. "Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!" At that dead hour the filent afp shall creep, If aught of reft I find, upon my fleep: Or fome swol'n ferpent twist his scales 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 deferts, and no griefs they find; Peace rules the day, where Reason 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 she thy love hath won, The tender Zara, will be most undone ; Big fwell'd my heart, and own'd the powerful maid, When fast she dropt her tears, as thus fhe faid: "Farewell the youth whom fighs could not detain, Whom Zara's breaking heart implor'd in vain! Yet, as thou go'ft, may ev'ry blast arise Safe o'er the wild, no perils may'st thou fee, Say, with a kiss, the muft not, shall not mourn; ECLOGUE 'N Georgia's land, where Teflis' towers are seen, I in diftant view along the level green, While evening dews enrich the glittering glade, What time 'tis fweet o'er fields of rice to fray, Of Abra, firft, began the tender strain, |