Among the vocal vales he heard her song, The royal lover bore her from the plain; Yet, 'midst the blaze of courts, she fixed her love On the cool fountain, or the shady grove; Still, with the shepherd's innocence, her mind To the sweet vale, and flowery mead, inclined; And oft as spring renewed the plains with flowers, Breathed his soft gales, and led the fragrant hours, With sure return she sought the sylvan scene, The breezy mountains, and the forests green. Her maids around her moved, a duteous band! Each bore a crook, all rural, in her hand : Some simple lay, of flocks and herds, they sung; With joy the mountain and the forest rung. Be every youth like royal Abbas moved, And every Georgian maid like Abra loved! And oft the royal lover left the care Or sought the vale where first his heart was fired : And thought of crowns, and busy courts, no more. Blest was the life that royal Abbas led : 4* ECLOGUE IV. AGIB AND SECANDER; OR, THE FUGITIVES. SCENE, A mountain in Circassia. TIME, Midnight. IN fair Circassia, where, to love inclined, SECANDER. O stay thee, Agib, for my feet deny, No longer friendly to my life, to fly. Friend of my heart, O turn thee and survey! Trace our sad flight through all its length of way, And first review that long extended plain, And yon wide groves, already past with pain! 'Yon ragged cliff, whose dangerous path we tried! And, last, this lofty mountain's weary side! AGIB. Weak as thou art, yet, hapless, must thou know The toils of flight, or some severer woe! Still, as I haste, the Tartar shouts behind, And shrieks and sorrows load the saddening wind : He blasts our harvests, and deforms our land. SECANDER. Unhappy land, whose blessings tempt the sword, In vain, unheard, thou call'st thy Persian lord! In vain thou court'st him, helpless, to thine aid, To shield the shepherd, and protect the maid! Far off, in thoughtless indolence resigned, Soft dreams of love and pleasure soothe his mind : 'Midst fair sultanas lost in idle joy, No wars alarm him, and no fears annoy. AGIB. Yet these green hills, in summer's sultry heat, Have lent the monarch oft a cool retreat. Sweet to the sight is Zabran's flowery plain, And once by maids and shepherds loved in vain! No more the virgins shall delight to rove By Sargis' banks, or Irwan's shady grove; On Tarkie's mountain catch the cooling gale, Or breathe the sweets of Aly's flowery vale: Fair scenes! but, ah! no more with peace possest, With ease alluring, and with plenty blest! SECANDER. In vain Circassia boasts her spicy groves, Forever famed for pure and happy loves: In vain she boasts her fairest of the fair, Their eyes' blue languish, and their golden hair! Those eyes in tears their fruitless grief must send; Those hairs the Tartar's cruel hand shall rend. AGIB. Ye Georgian swains, that piteous learn from far Circassia's ruin, and the waste of war; Some weightier arms than crooks and staves prepare, Oft marks with blood and wasting flames the way; Yet none so cruel as the Tartar foe, To death inured, and nursed in scenes of woe. He said; when loud along the vale was heard A shriller shriek, and nearer fires appeared: The affrighted shepherds, through the dews of night, Wide o'er the moonlight hills renewed their flight. |