Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

E CLOGUE

IV.

Agib and Secander; or, the Fugitives. Scene, a Mountain in Circaffia. Time, Midnight.

N fair Circaffia, where, to love inclin❜d,

IN

Each fwain was bleft, for every maid was kind;
At that still hour, when aweful midnight reigns,
And none, but wretches, haunt the twilight plains;
What time the moon had hung her lamp on high,
And past in radiance through the cloudless sky;
Sad o'er the dews, two brother shepherds fled,
Where wildering fear and defperate forrow led :
Faft as they preft their flight, behind them lay
Wild ravag'd plains, and vallies stole away.
Along the mountain's bending fides they ran,
Till, faint and weak, Secander thus began:

SECANDER.

O ftay thee, Agib, for my feet deny, No longer friendly to my life, to fly.

Friend of my heart, O turn thee and furvey,

Trace our fad flight through all its length of way!
And first review that long-extended plain,

And yon wide groves, already past with pain!
Yon ragged cliff, whofe dangerous path we try'd!
And laft this lofty mountain's weary side!

AGIB.

Weak as thou art, yet hapless must thou know

[ocr errors]

1

The toils of flight, or fome feverer woe!

Still as I hafte, the Tartar fhouts behind, And fhrieks and forrows load the faddening wind: of heart, with ruin in his hand,

In

rage

He blasts our harvests, and deforms our land.
Yon citron grove, whence first in fear we came,
Droops its fair honours to the conquering flame:
Tar fly the fwains, like us, in deep despair,
And leave to ruffian bands their fleecy care.

SECANDER.

Unhappy land, whofe bleffings tempt the fword, In vain, unheard, thou call'ft thy Perfian lord! In vain thou court'ft him, helpless, to thine aid, To fhield the shepherd, and protect the maid! Far off, in thoughtless indolence refign'd, Soft dreams of love and pleasure foothe his mind, 'Midft fair fultanas loft in idle joy,

No wars alarm him, and no fears annoy.

AGIB.

Yet thefe green hills, in fummer's fultry eat, Have lent the monarch oft a cool retreat. Sweet to the fight is Zabran's flowery plain, And once by maids and fhepherds lov'd in vain ! No more the virgins fhall delight to rove By Sargis' banks, or Irwan's fhady grove On Tarkie's mountain catch the cooling gale, Or breathe the fweets of Aly's flowery vale : Fair fcenes! but, ah! no more with peace poffeft, With ease alluring, and with plenty blest. No more the fhepherd's whitening tents appear, Nor the kind products of a bounteous year;

No more the date, with fnowy blossoms crown'd!
But ruin fpreads her baleful fires around.

SECANDER.

In vain Circaffia boasts her spicy groves,
For ever fam'd for pure and happy loves :
In vain the boasts her fairest of the fair,

Their eyes' blue languish, and their golden hair!
Thofe eyes in tears their fruitless grief must send';
Thofe hairs the Tartar's cruel hand fhall rend.

AGIE.

Ye Georgian fwains, that piteous learn from far
Circaffia's ruin, and the wafte of war;

Some weightier arms than crooks and staffs prepare,
To fhield your harvests, and defend your fair :
The Turk and Tartar like defigns pursue,
Fix'd to destroy, and ftedfaft to undo.
Wild as his land, in native deserts bred,
By luft incited, or by malice led,

The villain Arab, as he prowls for prey,

Oft marks with blood and wafting flames the way;
Yet none fo cruel as the Tartar foe,

To death inur'd, and nurft in fcenes of woe.

He faid; when loud along the vale was heard

A fhriller fhriek, and nearer fires appear'd:
Th' affrighted fhepherds, through the dews of night,
Wide o'er the moon-light hills renew'd their flight.

[ocr errors][merged small]

O DE S,

DESCRIPTIVE AND ALLEGORICAL.

ODE

ΤΟ

PITY.

[ocr errors]

Thou, the friend of man affign'd,

With balmy hands his wounds to bind, And charm his frantic woe:

When first Distress, with dagger keen,

Broke forth to waste his deftin'd scene,
His wild unfated foe!

By Pella's Bard, a magic name,

By all the griefs his thought could frame,
Receive my humble rite:

Long, Pity, let the nations view
Thy sky-worn robes of tenderest blue,
And eyes of dewy light!

But wherefore need I wander wide
To old Iliffus' diftant fide,

Deferted ftream, and mute?

Wild Arun too has heard thy ftrains,
And Echo, 'midft my native plains,
Been footh'd by Pity's lute.

A river in Suffex.

There first the wren thy myrtles shed
On gentleft Otway's infant head,
To him thy cell was fhewn ;
And while he fung the female heart,
With youth's foft notes unfpoil'd by art,
Thy turtles mix'd their own.

Come, Pity, come, by fancy's aid,
Ev'n now my thoughts, relenting maid,
Thy temple's pride defign:

Its fouthern fite, its truth complete
Shall raife a wild enthufiaft heat,
In all who view the shrine.

There Picture's toil fhall well relate,
How chance, or hard involving fate,
O'er mortal bliss prevail :

The bufkin'd Muse fhall near her ftand,
And fighing prompt her tender hand,
With each difaftrous tale.

There let me oft, retir'd by day,
In dreams of paffion melt away,
Allow'd with thee to dwell:
There waste the mournful lamp of night,
Till, Virgin, thou again delight

To hear a British shell!

ODE

« ПредишнаНапред »