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N Georgia's land, where Teffis' towers are seen,

In distant view along the level green,
While evening dewys enrich the glittering glade,
And the tall forests cast a longer shade,
What time 'tis sweet o'er fields of rice to ftray,
Or scent the breathing maize at setting day;
Amidft the maids of Zagen's peaceful grove,
Emyra sung the pleasing cares of love.

Of Abra first began the tender strain,
Who led her youth with flocks upon the plain :
At morn she came those willing flocks to lead,
Where lillies rear them in the watery mead;
From early dawn the live-long hours she told,
Till late at silent eve she penn’d the fold.
Deep in the grove, beneath the secret shade,
A various wreath of odorous flowers she made :
Gay-motley'd pinks and sweet jonquils she chose,
The violet blue that on the moss-bank grows ;
All-sweet to sense, the flaunting rose was there :
The finih'd chaplet well-adorn'd her hair.

Great

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Great Abbas chanc'd that fated morn to stray,
By love conducted from the chace away ;
Among the vocal vales- he heard her song,
And fought the vales and echoing groves among :
At length he found, and wou'd the rural maid
She knew the monarch, and with fear obey'd.

“ Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd,
“ And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd !").

The royal lover bore her from the plain;
Yet ftill her crook and bleating Alock remain :
Oft as she went, the backward turn'd her view,
And bad that crook and bleating flock adieu.
Fair happy maid ! to other scenes remove,
To richer scenes of golden power and love !
Go leave the simple pipe, and shepherd's ftrain;
With love delight thee, and with Abbas reign.

“ Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd,
« And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd !!!

Yet midst the blaze of courts the fix'd her love On the cool fountain, or the shady grove; Still with the shepherd's innocence her mind To the sweet vale, and flowery mead inclin'd; And oft as spring renew'd the plains with flowers, Breath'd his soft gales, and led the fragrant hours, With sure return the fought the sylvan scene, The breezy mountains, and the forests green,

Her

Her maids around her mov’d, a duteous band !
Each bore a crook all-rural in her hand:
Some simple lay of flocks and herds they sung;
With joy the mountain, and the forest

rung
“ Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd,
“ And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd!”

And aft the royal lover left the care
And thorns of state, attendant on the fair ;
Oft to the shades and low-roof'd cots retir’d,
Or sought the vale where first his heart was fir'd :
A rufset mantle, like a swain, he wore,
And thought of crowns and busy courts no more.

Be every youth like royal Abbas moy'd,
“ And every Georgian maid like Abra lov’d!”

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Bleft was the life, that royal Abbas led :
Sweet was his love and innocent his bed.
What if in wealth the noble maid excel ;
The simple shepherd girl can love as well.
Let those who rule on Persia's jewell’d throne,
Be fam'd for love, and gentlest love alone;
Or wreathe, like Abbas, full of fair renown,
The lover's myrtle with the warrior's crown. ·
O happy days ! the maids around her fay;
O hafte, profuse of blessings, hafte away !!

“ Be every youth, like royal Abbas movid,
And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd!”

E CLOGU E.

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N fair Circafia, where, to love inclin'd,

Each swain was bleft, for every maid was kind; At that still hour, when awful mignight 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 shepherds fed, Where wildering fear and desperate forrow led : Fast as they preft their flight, behind them lay Wide ravag'd plains, and vallies stole away. Along the mountain's bending fides they ran, Till faint and weak Secander thus began :

.

SE C A N D E R.
Oftay thee, Agib, for my feet deny,
No longer friendly to my life, to fly.
Friend of my heart, O turn thee and survey,
Trace our fad fight thro' all its length of way!
And first review that long-extended plain,
And yon wide groves, already past with pain!

Yon

Yon ragged cliff, whose dangerous path we tried ! And last, this lofty mountain's weary fide !

A G I B.' Weak as thou art, yet hapless must thou know The toils of flight, or fome feverer woe! Still as I haste, the Tartar fhouts behind, And shrieks and sorrows load the faddening wind : In rage of heart, with ruin in his hand, 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; Far fiy the fwains, like us, in deep despair, And leave to ruffian bands their fleecy care.

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Unhappy land, whose blessings tempt the sword, In vain, unheard, thou call'At thy Persian lord ! In vain thou court'ft him, helpless, to thine aid, To fhield the shepherd, and protect the maid ! Par off, in thoughtless indolence refign'd, Soft dreams of love and pleafure footh his mind : 'Midst fair fultanas lost in idle joy, No wars alarm him, and no fears annoy.

AG I B. Yet these green hills, in summer'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 shepherds lov'd in vain!

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