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The lily peace outshines the silver store,
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 swell'd my heart, and own'd the powerful maid, When fast she drops her tears, as thus she said:
“ Farewell the youth whom sighs could not detain, “ Whom Zara's breaking heart implor'd 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 may’st 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; O! let me teach my heart to lose its fears, Recall’d by Wisdom's voice, and Zara's tears.
He said, and callid on heaven to bless the day, When back to Schiraz' walls he bent his way.
ABRA; OR, THE GEORGIAN SULTANA.
Scene, a Forest. Time, the Evening.
In Georgia's land, where Teflis' towers are seen,
Of Abra first began the tender strain,
* That these flowers are found in very great abundance in some of the provinces of Persia, see the modern history of Mr. Salmon.
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 chase 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 every youth like royal Abbas mov’d, “ And every Georgian maid like Abra loy'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 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 mov’d, “ And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'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 flowery mead inclin'd; And oft as spring renew'd the plain with flowers, Breath'd 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 mov'd, 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 mov'd, “ And every 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 mov'd, “And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd !"
Blest was the life, that royal Abbas led:
AGIB AND SECANDER; OR, THE FUGI
Scene, a Mountain in Circassia. Time, Midnight.
In fair Circassia, where, to love inclind,
And first review that long-extended plain,
Secander. Unhappy land, whose blessings tempt the sword, In vain, unheard, thou call'st thy Persian lord I In vain thou court'st him, helpless to thine aid, To shield the shepherd, and protect the maid ! 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.
Agil. 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 lov'd 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. No more the shepherd's whitening 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.