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ORIENTAL ECLOGUES.

By Mr. COLLINS.

E CLOGUE I.

SELIM; OR, THE SHEPHERD'S MORAL.

SCENE, A VALLEY NEAR BAGDAT.

TIME, THE MORNING.

E Perfian maids, attend your poet's lays,

YE

And hear how shepherds pafs their golden days. Not all are bleft, whom fortune's hand fuftains

With wealth in courts, nor all that haunt the plains :
Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell ;
'Tis virtue makes the blifs, where'er we dwell.
Thus Selim fung, by facred truth infpir'd;
Nor praise, but such as truth bestow'd, defir'd:
Wife in himself, his meaning fongs convey'd
Informing morals to the shepherd maid;
Or taught the fwains that surest bliss to find,
What groves nor ftreams 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 valleys play,

Breathe on each flower, and bear their sweets away;

By

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

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 foft 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 beftow,
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 surface bright, But, dark within, they drink no luftrous light: Such are the maids, and fuch the charms they boast, By fenfe unaided, or to virtue lost.

Self-flattering fex! your hearts believe in vain

That love shall 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 firft 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 bless'd their love.

O haste, 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 clear, To lead the train, fweet Modesty appear:

Here make thy court amidst our rural scene,

And shepherd-girls fhall own thee for their queen,
With thee be Chastity, of all afraid,

Distrusting all, a wise suspicious maid;

But man the moft-not more the mountain doe
Holds the swift falcon for her deadly foe.

Cold is her breast, 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 last: 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 shepherds lov'd, and Selim blefs'd his fong.
ECLOGUE

ECLOGUE II.

HASSAN; OR THE

CAMEL-DRIVER.

SCENE, THE DESER T

I'

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N filent horror o'er the boundless wafte

The driver Haffan with his camels past: One cruise 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 dufty way pursue, Shrill roar'd the winds, and dreary was the view! With desperate 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!"

Ah little thought I of the blafting wind,

The thirst or pinching hunger that I find!

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Bethink thee, Hassan, where fhall thirst afswage,
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 bestow: Here rocks alone, and taftelefs fands are found, And faint and fickly winds for ever howl around. "Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, When firft from Schiraz' walls 1 bent my way !"

Curft be the gold and filver which perfuade
Weak men to fellow far-fatiguing trade!
The lilly peace outshines the filver store,
And life is dearer than the golden ore:

Το

Yet money tempts us o'er the defert brown,
every distant mart and wealthy town.
Full oft we tempt the land, and oft the sea:
And are we only yet repay'd by thee?
Ah! why was ruin so attractive made,
Or why fond man so easily betray'd?

Why heed we not, while mad we hafte along,
The gentle voice of peace, or pleasure's fong?

Or

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