The beasts with pain their dusty way pursue; Shrill roared the winds, and dreary was the view! With desperate sorrow wild, the affrighted man Thrice sighed, thrice struck his breast, and thus began:

'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-crowned fountains mitigate the day,
In vain ye hope the green delights to know,
Which plains more blest 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!

'Cursed 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 every 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 betrayed?

?

Why heed we not, while mad we haste along,
The gentle voice of Peace, or Pleasure's song
Or wherefore think the flowery 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.

'Oh, cease, my fears!—all frantic as I go, When thought creates unnumbered scenes of woe, What if the lion in his rage I meet!

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 roused, 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 dread hour the silent asp shall 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!

'O hapless youth! for she thy love hath won, The tender Zara will be most undone !

Big swelled my heart, and owned the lovely maid, When fast she dropped her tears, as thus she said :

"Farewell the youth whom sighs could not detain,
Whom Zara's breaking heart implored 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."
Oh, let me safely to the fair return,

Say, with a kiss, she must not, shall not mourn!
Oh, let me teach my heart to lose its fears,
Recalled by Wisdom's voice and Zara's tears!

He said, and called on Heaven to bless the day
When back to Schiraz' walls he bent his way.

Chained in the market-place he stood, a man of

giant frame,

Amid the gathering multitude, that shrunk to hear

his name;

All stern of look, and strong of limb, his dark eye

And silently they gazed on him, as on a lion bound.

Vainly, but well, that chief had fought; he was a captive now,

Yet pride, that fortune humbles not, was written on his brow.

The scars his dark broad bosom wore showed warrior true and brave;

A prince among his tribe before, he could not be a slave!

Then to his conqueror he spake, 'My brother is a a king;

Undo this necklace from my neck, and take this bracelet ring.

And send me where my brother reigns, and I will fill thy hands

With store of ivory from the plains, and gold-dust from the sands.'

'Not for thy ivory or thy gold will I unbind thy chain;

That fettered hand shall never hold the battle-spear

again.

A price thy nation never gave shall yet be paid for

thee;

For thou shalt be the Christian's slave, in lands beyond the sea.'

Then wept the warrior-chief, and bade to shred his locks away,

And one by one each heavy braid before the victor lay.

Thick were the plaited locks, and long; and deftly hidden there,

Shone many a wedge of gold among the dark and crispèd hair.

'Look! feast thy greedy eyes with gold, long kept for sorest need;

Take it, thou askest sums untold,-and say that I am freed.

Take it!-my wife the long, long days weeps by

the cocoa-tree,

And my young children leave their play, and ask in vain for me.'

'I take thy gold, but I have made thy fetters fast and strong,

And ween that by the cocoa-shade thy wife will wait thee long.'

Strong was the agony that shook the captive's frame to hear,

And the proud meaning of his look was changed to mortal fear.

His heart was broken-crazed his brain; at once his eye grew wild;

He struggled fiercely with his chain, whispered, and wept, and smiled;

Yet wore not long those fatal bands, for soon, at close of day,

They drew him forth upon the sands, the foul

hyæna's prey.

woda

BRYANT.