When sweet 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 sweets By Tigris' wandering waves he fat, and fung This useful leffon for the fair and young.

away:

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 soft arts, the peopled world around! The morn that lights you, to your loves fupplies Each gentler ray delicious to your eyes:

For

you 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 Baffora's pearls display; Drawn from the deep we own their furface bright, But, dark within, they drink no luftrous light:

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

[boast,

Self-flattering fex! your hearts believe in vain
That love fhall 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 perfections of a female mind!

Bleft were the days when wisdom held her reign, And fhepherds 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 fhrub, 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
To lead the train, fweet Modesty appear: [clear,
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 faulcon for her deadly foe.

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, whose heart is fix'd on one alone:
Defponding Meekness, with her down-caft eyes,
And friendly Pity, full of tender fighs;
And Love the laft: by these your hearts approve,
These are the virtues that must lead to love.

Thus fung the fwain; and ancient legends fay, The maids of Bagdat verified the lay: Dear to the plains, the Virtues came along,

The fhepherds lov'd, and Selim blefs'd his fong.

I

ECLOGUE II.

HASSAN; OR, THE CAMEL-DRIVER.

SCENE, THE DESERT.

TIME, MID-DAY.

N filent horror o'er the boundless waste

The driver Haffan with his camels past:
One cruife of water on his back he bore,
And his light fcrip contain'd a scanty store;
A fan of painted feathers in his hand,

To guard his shaded face from scorching 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 duffy way pursue,
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 luckless was the day, "When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my

"way!"

B 4

Ah!

Ah! little thought I of the blafting wind, The thirft 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!

The