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" Weak and unfelt as these rejected sighs! ⚫ bestow : "Safe o'er the wild, no perils mayst thou see; 'Here rocks alone, and tasteless sands are found," No griefs endure, nor weep, false youth, like 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!
"Farewel the youth, whom sighs couldnotdetain, "Whom Zara's breaking heart implor'd in vain; "Yet as thou go'st, may ev'ry blast arise
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 ev'ry 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 this ruin so attractive made ? Or why, fond man, so easily betray'd?
Why heed we not, while nad we haste along, The gentle voice of Peace, or Pleasure's song? Or wherefore think the flow'ry 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!
40 cease, fears! - all frantic as I go, my When thought creates unnumber'd scenes of
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 rous'd, 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: 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; Peacerules the day, where reason rules the mind. Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, When first from Schiraz' walls I took my 'way!
O hapless youth! for she thy love hath won, The tender Kara, will be most undone! 'Big swell'd my heart, and own'd the pow'rful ́ maid,
When fast she dropp'd her tears and thus 'she said :'
IN Georgia's land, where Tefflis' tow'rs are seen In distant view along the level green : While evening dews enrich the glitt'ring glade, And the tall forests cast a longer shade; What time 'tis 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 wat'ry mead : From early dawn the live-long hours she told, Till late at silent eve she penn'd the fold. Deep in the grove, beneath the secret shade, A various wreath of od'rous flowers she made. Gayjmotley'dpinks andsweet jonquils she chose," The violet blue, that on the moss-bank grows; All sweet to sense, the flaunting rose was there: The finish'd chaplet well adorn'd her hair.
Great Abbas chanc'd that fated morn to stray, By love conducted from the chace 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 ev'ry youth like royal Abbas mov'd,
And ev'ry Georgian maid like Abra lov'd! The royal lover bore her from the plain; Yet still her crook and bleating flock remain: Oft as she went she backward turn'd her view, And bade that crook and bleating flock adieu. Fair, happy maid! to other scenes remove; To richer scenes of golden pow'r and love! Go, leave the simple pipe,and shepherd's strain; With love delight thee, and with Abbas reign:
Be ev'ry youth like royal Abbas mov'd, And ev'ry Georgian maid like Abra løv'd'. Yet, midst the blaze of courts, she fix'd her love On the cool fountain, or the shady grove; Still, with the shepherd's innocence, her mind To the sweet vale and flow'ry inead inclin'd
That these flowers are found in very great abundance in some of the provinces of Persia, see the Medern History of the ingenious Mr. Salmon.
And oft as Spring renew'd the plains with flow'rs, | Far fly the swains, like us, in deep despair; Breath'd his soft gales, and led the fragrant hours, And leave to ruffian bands their fleecy care. With sure return she sought the sylvan scene, The breezy mountains, and the forests green. Her maids around her mov'd, a duteous band! Fach bore a crook all-rural in her hand:
Unhappy land! whoseblessingstemptthesword; In vain, unheard, thou call st thy Persian lord! In vain thou court him, helpless, to thine aid,
Some simple lay of flocks and herds they sung;To shield the shepherd, and protect the maid!
With joy the mountain and the forest rung.
Be ev'ry youth like royal Abbas mov'd, And ev'ry 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 shades and low-roof'd cots retir'd, Or sought the vale where first his heart was fir'd: A russet mantle, like a swain, he wore; And thought of crowns and busy courts no more. Be every youth like royal Abbas movid, And ev'ry Georgian maid like Abra lov'd! Blest was the life that royal Abbas fed: 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 Persia's jewell'd throne Be fam'd for love, and gentlest 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 say; O haste, profuse of blessings, haste away! Be ev'ry youth like royal Abbas mov'd, And ev'ry Georgian maid like Abra lov'd!
Agil and Secander; or, the Fugitives. Scene,a Mountain, in Circassia. -- Time,Midnight. IN fair Circassia, where, to love inclin'd, Each swain was blest, for ev'ry maid was kind; At that still hour when awful midnight reigns, And none but wretches haunt the twilight plains, What time the moon had hung her lamp on high; And pass'd in radiance thro' the cloudless sky; Sad o'er the dews two brother shepherds fled, Where 'wild'ring fear and desp'rate sorrow led: Fast as they press'd their flight, behind them lay Wide ravag'd plains, and valleys stole away. Along the mountain's bending side they ran; Till, faint and weak, Secander thus began :
Oh stay thee, Agib; for my feet deny, No longer friendly to my life, to fly. Friend of my heart, oh turn thee, and survey, Trace our sad flight thro' all its length of way! And first review that long extended plain, And yon wide groves, already pass'd with pain! Yon ragged cliff, whose dang 'rous path we tried! And, last, this lofty mountain's weary side!
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 sadd'ning wind; In rage of heart, with ruin in his hand, He blasts our harvests, and deforms our land. Yon citron grove, whence first in fear we came, Drops its fair honors to the conquering flame:
Far off, in thoughtless indolence resign'd, Soft dreams of love and pleasure sooth his mind: Midst fair Sultanas lost in idle joy,
No wars alarm him, and no fears annoy. AGI B.
Yet these green hills, in summer's sultry heat, Have lent the monarch oft a cool retreat.
Sweet to the sight is Zabra's flow'ry plain, And once by maids and shepherds lov'd in vain ? No more the virgius 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 flow'ry vale; Fair scenes! but ah! no more with peace possest, With case alluring, and with plenty blest. No more the shepherds' whit'ning tents appear, Nor the kind products of a bounteous year; No more the date, with snowy blossoms crown'd; But Ruin spreads her baleful fires around.
In vain Circassia boasts her spicy groves, For ever fam'd 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.
Ye Georgian swains, that piteous learn from [far Circassia's ruin, and the waste of war ; Some weightier arms than crooks and staffs To shield your harvest, and defend your fair : The Turk and Tartar like designs pursue, Wild as his land, in native deserts bred, Fix'd to destroy, and stedfast to undo. By lust incited, or by malice led, The villain Arab, as he prowls for prey, Oft marks with blood and wasting flames the way; Yet none so cruel as the Tartar foe, To death inur'd, and nurs`d in scenes of woɛ.
He said; when loud along the vale was heard A shriller shriek, and nearer fires appear'd; The affrighted shepherds, thro' the dews of night. Wideo'erthemoon-light hills renew'd their flight
To Juniper's Magpie, or Town Hall, repairs; Where, mindful of the nymph whose wantoneye Transfix'd his soul, and kindled amorous flames, Chloe or Phillis, he each circling glass Wishes her health, and joy, and equal love. Meanwhile he smokes, and laughs at merry tale, Or pun ambiguous, or conundrum quaint. But I, whom griping penury surrounds, And hunger, sure attendant upon want, With scanty offals, and small acid tiff, (Wretched repast!) my meagre corse sustain: Then solitary walk, or doze at home In garret vile, and with a warming puff Regale chill'd fingers; or, from tube as black As winter chimney, or well-polish'd jet, Exhale mundungus, ill perfuming scent; Not blacker tube, nor of a shorter size, Smokes Cambro-Briton (vers'd in pedigree, Sprung from Cadwallader and Arthur, kings, Full famous in romantic tale) when he O'er many a craggy hill and barren cliff, Upon a cargo of fam'd Cestrian cheese, High overshadowing rides, with a desigu To rend his wares, or at th' Arvonian mart, Or Maridunum, or the antient town Yelep'd Brechinia, or where Vaga's stream Encircles Ariconiam, fruitful soil! Whenceflow nectarcous wines, that well may vie With Massic, Setin, or renown'd Falern. Thus, while my joyless minutes tedious flow, With looks demure, and silent pacs, a Dun, Horrible monster! hated by Gods and men, To my aerial citadel ascends:
With vocal heel thrice thund'ring at my gate, With hideous accent thrice he calls; I know The voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound. What should I do? or whither turn? Ainazid, Confounded, to the dark recess I fly Of wood-hole; straight my bristling hairs ercet Thro' sudden fear; a chilly sweat bedews My shudd'ring limbs, and (wonderful to tell!) My tongue forgets her faculty of speech; So horrible he seems! His faded brow Entrench'd with many a frown, and conic beard, And spreading band, admir'd by modern saints, Disastrous acts fore bode; in his right hand Long scrolls of paper solemnly he waves, With characters and figures dire inscrib'd, Grievous to mortal eyes (ye gods, avert Such plagues from righteous men!y. Behind him Another monster not unlike himself, [stalks Sullen of aspect, by the vulgar call'd A Catchpole, whose polluted hands the gods With force incredible, and magic charms, Erst have endued if he his ample palm Should haply on ill-fated shoulder lay Of debtor straight his body, to the touch Obsequious (as whilom knights were wont), To some enchanted castle is convey'd, Where gates impregnable, and coercive chains, In durance strict detain him! till, in forin Of money, Pallas sets the captive free.
Beware ye debtors! when ye walk beware, Be circumspect oft with insidious ken
This caitiff eyes your steps aloof; and oft Lies perdue in a nook or gloomy cave, Prompt to enchant some inadvertent wretch With his unhallow'd touch. So (poets sing). Grimalkin, to domestic vermin sworn An everlasting foe, with watchful eye Lies nightly brooding o'er a chinky gap,. Protending her fell claws, to thoughtless mice Sure ruin. So her disembowell'd. web Arachne in a hall or kitchen spreads, Obvious to vagrant flics: she secret stands Within her woven cell; the humming prey, Regardless of their fate, rush on the toils Inextricable, nor will aught avail Their arts, or arms, or shapes of lovely hue; The wasp insidious, and the buzzing drone, And butterfly, proud of expanded wings Distinct with gold, entangled in her snares, Useless resistance make: with eager strides, She tow'ring flies to her expected spoils; Then with envenom'd jaws the vital blood Drinks of reluctant foes, and to her cave Their bulky carcases triumphant drags.
So pass my days. But when nocturnal shades This world envelop, and th' inclement air Persuades men to repel benumbing frosts With pleasant wines, and crackling blaze of wood; Me, lonely sitting, nor the glimmering light Of make-weight candle, nor the joyous talk Of loving friends, delights; distress'd, forlorn, Amidst the horrors of the tedious night, Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal thoughts My anxious mind; or sometimes mournful verse Indite, and sing of groves and myrtle shades, Or desp'rate lady near a purling stream, Or lover pendant on a willow-tree. Meanwhile I labor with eternal drought, Aut restless wish, and rave; my parched throat Finds no relief, nor heavy eyes repose: But if a slumber haply does invade My weary limbs, my fancy 's still awake, Thoughtful of drink, and eager, in a dream, Tipples imaginary pots of ale,
In vain: awake, I find the settled thirst Still gnawing, and the pleasant phantom curse; Thus do I live, from pleasure quite debarr'd, Nor-taste the fruits that the sun's génial rays Mature-john-apple, nor the downy peach, Nor walnut in rough furrow'd coat secure, Nor medlar fruit delicious in decay. Afflictions great! yet greater still remain : My galligaskins, that have long withstood The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts, By time subdued (what will not time subdue?) A horrid chasm disclose, with orifice Wide, discontinuous; at which the winds, Eurus and Auster, and the dreadful force Of Boreas, that congeals the Cronian waves, l'umultuous enter with dire chilling blasts, Portending agues. Thus a well-fraught ship, Long sail'd secure, or thro' th' gean deep, Or the Ionian, till cruising near The Lilybean shore, with hideous crush On Scylla or Charybdis (dang'rous rocks)
Two noted alehouses in Oxford, 1700.
Which madness titles Happiness; While the gay wretch to revels bears The pale remains of sighs and tears; And seeks in crowds, like her undone, What only can be found in one.
She strikes rebounding; whence the shatter'doak | The troubled mind's fantastic dress, So fierce a shock unable to withstand, Admits the sea; in at the gaping side The crowding waves rush with impetuous rage, Resistless, overwhelming! Horrors seise The mariners; death in their eyes appears; They stare, they rave, they pump, they swear, they pray;
(Vain efforts!) still the batt'ring waves rush in, Implacable; till, delug'd by the foam, The ship sinks found'ring in the vast abyss.
§ 98. An Epistle to a Lady. NUGENT.
CLARINDA, dearly lov'd, attend The counsels of a faithful friend; Who with the warmest wishes fraught, Feels all, at least, that friendship ought! But since, by ruling Heaven's design, Another's fate shall influence thine; Oh may these lines for him prepare, A bliss, which I would die to share! Man may for wealth or glory roam But woman must be blest at home; To this should all her studies tend, This her great object and her end. Distaste unmingled pleasures bring, And use can blunt Affliction's sting; Hence perfect bliss no mortals know, And few are plung'd in utter woe: While Nature, arm'd against Despair, Gives pow'r to mend, or strength to bear; And half the thought content may gain, Which spleen employs to purchase pain.
Trace not the fair domestic plan From what you would, but what you can! Nor, peevish, spurn the scanty shore, Because you think you merit more! Bliss ever differs in degree,
Thy share alone is meant for thee;
And thou should'st think, however small, That share enough, for 'tis thy all: Vain scorn will aggravate distress, And only make that little less.
Admit whatever trifles come; Unites compose the largest sum: Oh tell them o'er, and say how vain Are those who form Ambition's train; Which swell the monarch's gorgeous state, And bribe to ill the guilty great!
But thou, more blest, more wise than these, Shalt build up happiness on case. Hail, sweet Content! where joy serene Gilds the mild soul's unruffl'd'scene; And, with bithe Fancy's pencil wrought, Spreads the white web of flowing thought, Shines lovely in the cheerful face,
And clothes each charm with native grace; Effusion pure of bliss sincere, A vestment for a god to wear. Far other ori,aments compose The garb that shrouds dissembled woes, Piec'd out with inotley dyes and sorts, Freaks, whimsies, festivals, and sports:
But chief, my gentle friend! remove Far from thy couch seducing Love: Oh shun the false magician's art, Nor trust thy yet unguarded heart! Charm'd by his spells fair Honor flies, And thousand treach'rous phantoms rise; Where Guilt in Beauty's ray beguiles, And Ruin lurks in Friendship's smiles. Lo! where th' enchanting captive dreams Of warbling groves and purling streams; Of painted meads, of flow'rs that shed Their odors round her fragrant bed. Quick shifts the scene, the charm is lost, She wakes upon a desert coast; No friendly hand to lend its aid, No guardian bow'r to spread its shade; Expos'd to ev'ry chilling blast, She treads th' inhospitable waste; And down the drear decline of life Sinks, a forlorn, dishonor'd wife. Neglect not thou the voice of Fame, But, clear from crime, be free from blame Tho' all were innocence within, "Tis guilt to wear the garb of sin; Virtue rejects the foul disguise : None merit praise who praise despise. Slight not, in supercilious strain, Long practis'd modes, as low or vain! The world will vindicate their cause, And claim, blind faith in Custom's laws.; } Safer with multitudes to stray, Than tread alone a fairer way; To mingle with the erring throng, Than boldly speak ten millions wrong. Beware of the relentless train
Who forms adore, who forms maintain! Lest prudes demure, or coxcombs loud, Accuse thee to the partial crowd; Foes who the laws of honor slight, A judge who measures guilt by spite. Behold the sage Aurelia stand, Disgrace and fame at her command; As if Heaven's delegate design'd, Sole arbiter of all her kind, Whether she try some favor'd piece By rules devis'd in antient Greece; Or whether, modern in her fight, She tells what Paris thinks polite : For much her talents to advance, She studied Greece, and travell'd France; There learn'd the happy art to please With all the charms of labor'd case; Thro' looks and nods, with meaning fraught, To teach what she was never taught. By her each latent spring is seen; The workings foul of secret spleen ; The guilt that skulks in fair pretence; Or folly veil'd in specious sense.
And much her righteous spirit grieves, When worthlessness the world deceives; Whether the erring crowd commends Some patriot sway'd by private ends; Or husband trust a faithless wife, Secure, in ignorance, from strife. Averse she brings their deeds to view, But justice claims the rig'rous due; Humanely anxious to produce At least some possible excuse. Oh ne'er may virtue's dire disgrace Prepare a triumph for the base!
Mere forms the fool implicit sway, Which witlings with contempt survey; Blind folly no defect can see,
Half wisdom views but one degree. The wise remoter uses reach, Which judgement and experience teach. Whoever would be pleas'd and please, Must do what others do with ease. Great precept, undefin'd by rule, And only learn'd in Custom's school; To no peculiar form confin'd,
It spreads thro' all the human kind; Beauty, and wit, and worth supplies, Yet graceful in the good and wise. Rich with this gift, and none beside, In Fashion's stream how many glide! Secure from ev'ry mental woe, From treach'rous friend or open foe; From social sympathy, that shares The public loss or private cares; Whether the barb'rous foe invade, Or Merit pine in Fortune's shade. Hence gentle Anna, ever gay, The same to-morrow as to-day,
Save where, perchance, when others weep, Her cheek the decent sorrow steep; Save when, perhaps, a melting tale O'er ev'ry tender breast prevail :
The good, the bad, the great, the small, She likes, she loves, she honors all. And yet, if sland'rous malice blame, Patient she yields a sister's fame. Alike if satire or if praise, She says whate'er the circle says; Implicit does whate'er they do, Without one point in wish or view. Sure test of others, faithful glass, Thro' which the various phantoms pass. Wide blank, unfeeling when alone; No care, no joy, no thought her own. Not thus succeeds the peerless dame, Who looks and talks, and acts for fame; Intent so wide her cares extend, To make the universe her friend. Now with the gay in frolics shines, Now reasons deep with deep divines: With courtiers now extols the great, With patriots sighs o'er Britain's fate: Now breathes with zealots holy fires, Now melts in less refin'd desires : Doom'd to exceed in each degree, Too wise, too weak, too proud, too free;
Too various for one single word, The high sublime of deep absurd : While ev'ry talent nature grants
Just serves to show how much she wants. Altho' in combine
The virtues of our sex and thine: Her hand restrains the widow's tears; Her sense informs, and sooths, and cheers: Yet, like an angel in disguise,
She shines but to some favor'd eyes; Nor is the distant herd allow'd To view the radiance thro' the cloud. But thine is ev'ry winning art; Thine is the friendly, honest heart; And should the gen'rous spirit flow Beyond where prudence fears to go; Such sallies are of nobler kind Than virtues of a narrow mind.
$99. Alexander's Feast; or the Power of Music. An Ode on St. Cecilia's Day. DRYDEN. TWAS at the royal feast, for Persia won, By Philip's warlike son: Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate
On his imperial throne:
His valiant peers were plac'd around; Their brows with roses and with myrtle bound; So should desert in arms be crown'd.
The lovely Thais by his side
Sat, like a blooming eastern bride, In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride. Happy, happy, happy, pair; None but the brave, None but the brave,
None but the brave deserves the fair.
Timotheus, plac'd on high
Amid the tuneful choir,
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre: The trembling notes ascend the sky, And heavenly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove: Who left his blissful seats above, Such is the pow'r of mighty love! A dragon's fiery form belied the god : Sublime on radiant spheres he rode,
When he to fair Olympia press'd, And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the world.
The list ning crowd admires the lofty sound; A present deity, 'the vaulted roofs rebound: With ravish'd ears The monarch hears, Assumes the god,
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