Thus Selim fung, by facred Truth infpir'd;
Nor praise, but such as Truth beftow'd, defir’d:
Wife in himfelf, his meaning fongs convey'd
Informing morals to the fhepherd maid;

Or taught the fwains that fureft blifs to find,
What groves nor ftreams beftow, a virtuous mind.
When fweet and blushing, like a virgin bride,
The radiant morn refum'd her orient pride,
When wanton gales along the valleys play,
Breathe on each flower, and bear their fweets away;
By Tygris' wandering waves he fat, and fung
This ufeful leffon for the fair and young.

Ye Perfian dames, he faid, to you belong,
Well may they pleafe, the morals of my fong:
No fairer maids, I truft, than you are found,
Grac'd with foft arts, the peopled world around!
The morn that lights you, to your loves fupplies
Each gentler ray delicious to your eyes:

you

For thofe flowers her fragrant hands bestow,
And yours the love that kings delight to know.
Yet think not thefe, all beauteous as they are,
The best kind bleffings heaven can grant the fair!
Who truft alone in Beauty's feeble ray,
Boaft but the worth a Balfora's pearls display;
Drawn from the deep we own their surface bright,
But, dark within, they drink no luftrous light:

a The gulph of that name, famous for the pearl fishery.

Such

Such are the maids, and fuch the charms they boaft,
By fenfe unaided, or to virtue loft.

Self-flattering fex! your hearts believe in vain.

That Love shall blind, when once he fires the fwain;
Or hope a lover by your faults to win,
As fpots on ermin beautify the skin :

Who feeks fecure to rule, be first her care
Each fofter virtue that adorns the fair;
Each tender paffion man delights to find

The lov'd perfection of a female mind!

Bleft were the days, when Wisdom held her reign,
And shepherds fought her on the filent plain;
With Truth fhe wedded in the fecret grove,
Immortal Truth, and daughters blefs'd their love.
O hafte, fair maids! ye Virtues come away,
Sweet Peace and Plenty lead you on your way!
The balmy shrub for you shall love our shore,
By Ind excell'd or Araby no more.

Loft to our fields, for fo the Fates ordain,

The dear deferters fhall return again.

Come thou, whofe thoughts as limpid fprings are clear,
To lead the train, fweet Modefty, appear:

Here make thy court amidst our rural scene,
And fhepherd-girls fhall own thee for their queen.
With thee be Chastity, of all afraid,

Diftrufting all, a wife fufpicious maid;

But man the moft-not more the mountain doe

Holds the swift falcon for her deadly foe.

1

B 2

.Cold

Cold is her breaft, like flowers that drink the dew;

A filken veil conceals her from the view,
No wild defires amidst thy train be known,
But Faith, whofe heart is fix'd on one alone:
Defponding Meeknefs, with her down-caft eyes,
And friendly Pity, full of tender fighs;

And love the laft: by these your hearts approve,
Thefe are the virtues that muft lead to love.

Thus fung the fwain; and ancient legends fay,
The maids of Bagdat verify'd the lay:

Dear to the plains, the Virtues came along,
The shepherds lov'd, and Selim bless'd his fong.

'N filent horror o'er the boundless wafte

The driver Haffan with his camels paft:

One cruife of water on his back he bore,
And his light fcrip contain'd a fcanty store;

A fan

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 blasting wind,
The thirst or pinching hunger that I find!
Bethink thee, Haffan, where fhall thirft affwage,
When fails this cruife, his unrelenting rage?
Soon fhall this fcrip'its precious load refign;
Then what but tears and hunger shall be thine?
Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear
In all my griefs a more than equal share !
Here, where no fprings in murmurs break away,
Or mofs-crown'd fountains mitigate the day,
In vain ye hope the green delights to know,
Which plains more bleft, or verdant vales beftow;
Here rocks alone, and taftelefs fands are found,
And faint and fickly winds for ever howl around,
"Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day,
"When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way."
Curft be the gold and filver which perfuade
Weak men to follow far-fatiguing trade!

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The lilly peace outshines the filver store,
And life is dearer than the golden ore:
Yet money tempts us o'er the defërt brown,
Το every diftant mart and wealthy town.
Full oft we tempt the land, and oft the fea;
And are we only yet repay'd by thee?
Ah! why this ruin fo attractive made,
Or why fond man fo eafily betray'd?

Why heed we not, while mad we hafte along,
The gentle voice of Peace, or Pleafure's fong?
Or wherefore think the flowery mountain's fide,
The fountain's murmurs, and the valley's pride,
Why think we thefe lefs pleafing to behold
Than dreary deferts, if they lead to gold?

"Sad was the hour, and lucklefs 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 fcenes 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 prey.
"Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day,
When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!"

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