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ORIENTAL ECLOGUES.

ECLOGUE I.

SELIM;

OR THE SHEPHERD'S MORAL.

Scene, a Valley near Bagdad. Time, the Morning. YE Persian maids, attend your poet's lays, And hear how shepherds pass their golden days. Not all are blest, whom Fortune's hand sustains With wealth in courts; nor all that haunt the plains; Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell! "Tis virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell. Thus Selim sung, by sacred Truth inspir'd; Nor praise, but such as truth bestow'd, desir'd; Wise in himself, his meaning songs convey'd Informing morals to the shepherd maid; Or taught the swains that surest bliss to find, What groves nor streams bestow, a virtuous mind. When sweet and blushing, like a virgin bride, The radiant morn resum❜d her orient pride, When wanton gales along the vallies play,

Breathe on each flower, and bear their sweets away:

By Tigris' wandering waves he sat, and sung
This useful lesson for the fair and young.

Ye Persian dames, he said, to you belong,
Well may they please, the morals of my song:
No fairer maids, I trust, than you are found,
Grac'd with soft airs, the peopled world around;
The morn that lights you, to your loves supplies
Each gentler ray delicious to your eyes:
For you those flowers her fragrant hands bestow,
And yours the love that kings delight to know.
Yet think not these, all beauteous as they are,
The best kind blessings heaven can grant the fair!
Who trust alone in beauty's feeble ray,

Boast but the worth Bassora's pearls display; Drawn from the deep we own their surface bright, But, dark within, they drink no lustrous light: Such are the maids and such the charms they boast By sense unaided, or to virtue lost.

Self-flattering sex! your hearts believe in vain

That love shall blind, when once he fires the swain; Or hope a lover by your faults to win,

As spots on ermin beautify the skin:

Who seeks secure to rule, be first her care

Each softer virtue that adorns the fair;
Each tender passion man delights to find,
The lov'd perfections of a female mind!

C

Blest were the days, when Wisdom held her reign, And shepherds sought her on the silent plain; With Truth she wedded in the secret grove, Immortal Truth, and daughters bless'd their love. O haste, 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.

Lost to our fields, for so the Fates ordain,

The dear deserters shall return again.

Come thou, whose thoughts as limpid springs are clear,

To lead the train, sweet Modesty appear :
Here make thy court amidst our rural scene,
And shepherd-girls shall own thee for their queen.
With thee be Chastity, of all afraid,
Distrusting all, a wise suspicious maid;

But man the most-not more the mountain doe
Holds the swift faulcon for her deadly foe.

Cold is her breast, like flowers that drink the dew,

A silken veil conceals her from the view.

No wild desires amidst thy train be known,

But Faith, whose heart is fix'd on one alone :
Desponding Meekness with her downcast eyes,
And friendly Pity, full of tender sighs;

And Love the last: by these your hearts approve,
These are the virtues that must lead to love.

Thus sung the swain; and ancient legends say, The maids of Bagdat verified the lay:

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

ECLOGUE II.

HASSAN ;

OR, THE CAMEL-DRIVER.

Scene, The Desert. Time, Mid-day.
IN silent horror, o'er the boundless waste,
The driver Hassan with his camels past;
One cruise of water on his back he bore,
And his light scrip contain'd a scanty store;
A fan of painted feathers in his hand,

To guard his shaded face from scorching sand.
The sultry sun had gain'd the middle sky,
And not a tree and not an herb was nigh;
The beasts with pain their dusty way pursue,
Shrill roar'd the winds, and dreary was the view!
With desp❜rate sorrow wild, th' affrighted man
Thrice sigh'd, thrice struck his breast, and thus be-

gan;

"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 ?
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-crown'd fountains mitigate the day,
In vain ye hope the green delight to know

Which plains more bless'd or verdant vales bestow;
Here rocks alone and tasteless sands are found,
And faint and sickly winds for ever howl around.
"Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day,
"When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!"
Curs'd 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 was ruin so attractive made,
Or why fond man so easily betray'd?