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ECLOGUE II. HASSAN; OR, THE CAMEL-DRIVER.

Scene, The desert. Time, Midday.

In silent horror o'er the boundless waste
The driver Hassan with his camels passed:
One cruise of water on his back he bore,
And his light scrip contained a scanty store;
A fan of painted feathers in his hand,
To guard his shaded face from scorching sand.
The sultry sun had gained the middle sky,
And not a tree and not an herb was nigh;
The-beasts with pain their dusty way pursue;
Shrill roared the winds, and dreary was the view!
With desperate sorrow wild, the affrighted man
Thrice sighed, thrice struck his breast, and thus began:
"Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day,
When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!

"Ah! little thought I of the blasting wind,
The thirst or pinching hunger, that I find!
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?

i l 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-crowned 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 forever 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
Weak men to follow far-fatiguing trade!
The lily peace outshines the silver store,
And life is dearer than the golden ore:
Yet money tempts us o'er the desert brown,
To every distant mart and wealthy town.
Full oft we tempt the land, and oft the sea;
And are we only yet repaid by thee?
Ah! why was ruin so attractive made?
Or why fond man so easily betrayed?
Why heed we not, whilst mad we haste along,
The gentle voice of peace, or pleasure's song?
Or wherefore think the flowery mountain's side,
The fountain's murmurs, and the valley's pride,
Why think we these less pleasing to behold
Than dreary deserts, if they lead to gold?
Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day,
When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!

"0 cease, my fears! — all frantic as I go, When thought creates unnumbered scenes of woe, What if the lion in his rage I meet! — Oft in the dust I view his printed feet: And, fearful! oft, when day's declining light Yields her pale empire to the mourner night, By hunger roused, he scours the groaning plain, Gaunt wolves and sullen tigers 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 first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!

"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!

"0 hapless youth! —for she thy love hath won, The tender Zara will be most undone! Big swelled my heart, and owned the powerful maid, When fast she dropt her tears, as thus she said: 'Farewell the youth whom sighs could not detain; Whom Zara's breaking heart implored in vain! Yet, as thou go'st, may every blast arise Weak and unfelt as these rejected sighs! Safe o'er the wild, no perils mayst thou see, No griefs endure, nor weep, false youth, like me.' 0, let me safely to the fair return, Say, with a kiss, she must not, shall not mourn; 0! let me teach my heart to lose its fears, Recalled by Wisdom's voice, and Zara's tears."

He said, and called on Heaven to bless the day, When back to Schiraz' walls he bent his way.

ECLOGUE in.

ABRA;

Scene, A forest. Time, The evening.

In Georgia's land, where Tefflis' towers are seen,
In distant view, along the level green,
While evening dews enrich the glittering glade.
And the tall forests cast a longer shade,
What time't is sweet o'er fields of rice to stray,
Or scent the breathing maize at setting day;
Amidst the maids of Zagen's peaceful grove,
Emyra sung the pleasing 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 lilies rear them in the watery mead;
From early dawn the livelong hours she told,
Till late at silent eve she penned the fold.
Deep in the grove, beneath the secret shade,
A various wreath of odorous flowers she made:
Gay-motleyed pinks and sweet jonquils she chose,
The violet blue that on the moss-bank grows;
All sweet to sense, the flaunting rose was there;
The finished chaplet well adorned her hair.

Great Abbas chanced 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 wooed the rural maid;She knew the monarch, and with fear obeyed.
Be every youth like royal Abbas moved,
And every Georgian maid like Abra loved!

The royal lover bore her from the plain;Yet still her crook and bleating flock remain:Oft, as she went, she backward turned her view,
And bade that crook and bleating flock adieu.
Fair, happy maid ! to other scenes remove,
To richer scenes of golden power and love!Go leave the simple pipe and shepherd's strain;With love delight thee, and with Abbas reign!
Be every youth like royal Abbas moved,
And every Georgian maid like Abra loved!

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!

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