ECLOGUE

IV.

AGIB AND SECANDER; OR, THE FUGITIVES.

SCENE, A MOUNTAIN IN CIRCASSIA.

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 awful midnight reigns, And none, but wretches, haunt the twilight plains; What time the moon had hung her lamp on high, And past in radiance thro' the cloudless sky; Sad o'er the dews, two brother fhepherds fled, Where wildering fear and desperate forrow led: Fast 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 thro' 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 tried!!
And laft this lofty mountain's weary fide!

AGIB.

Weak as thou art, yet hapless must thou know The toils of flight, or fome feverer woe!

Still as I hafte, the Tartar fhouts behind,

And fhrieks and forrows load the faddening wind
In rage of heart, with ruin in his hand,
He blafts our harvests, and deforms our land.
Yon citron grove, whence first in fear we came,
Droops its fair honours to the conquering flame:
Far fly the fwains, like us, in deep despair,

And leave to ruffian bands their fleecy care.

SECANDER.

Unhappy land, whose bleffings tempt the fword, In vain, unheard, thou call'ft thy Perfian lord! In vain thou court'ft him, helpless, to thine aid, To shield the shepherd, and protect the maid! Far off, in thoughtless indolence refign'd,

Soft dreams of love and pleasure footh his mind: 'Midft fair fultanas loft in idle joy,

No wars alarm him, and no fears annoy.

AGIB.

Yet these green hills, in fummer's fultry heat, 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 scenes! but, ah! no more with peace poffeft,
With ease alluring, and with plenty bleft,

No more the shepherd's whitening tents appear,
Nor the kind products of a bounteous year;
No more the date, with fnowy bloffoms 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 fhe boasts her fairest of the fair, Their eye's blue languish, and their golden hair! Thofe eyes in tears their fruitless grief muft fend; Thofe hairs the Tartar's cruel hand shall rend.

AGIB.

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

Some weightier arms than crooks and staffs prepare,
To fhield your harvefts, and defend your fair:
The Turk and Tartar like defigns pursue,

Fix'd to deftroy, 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 nurst in scenes of woe.

He faid; when loud along the vale was heard A shriller fhriek, and nearer fires appear'd: Th' affrighted fhepherds thro' the dews of night, Wide o'er the moon-light hills renew'd their flight.