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N fair Circadia, where, to love inclin'd,
Each swain was blest, 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 fied,
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 sides they ran,
Till faint and weak Secander thus began :

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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 flight 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 laft, 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 severer woe! Still as I haste, the Tartar shouts behind, And shrieks and sorrows load the saddening 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 fly the fwains, like us, in deep despair, And leave to ruffian bands their fleecy care.

S E CA N DE R. Unhappy land, whose blessings tempt the sword, In vain, unheard, thou call'st thy Persian lord ! In vain thou court'st him, helpless, to thine aid, To shield the shepherd, and protect the maid ! Par off, in thoughtless indolence refign'd, Soft dreams of love and pleasure footh his mind : 'Midit fair sultanas loft in idle joy, No wars alarm him, and no fears annoy.

AGI B. Yet these green hills, in summer's sultry heat, Have lent the monarch oft a cool retreat. Sweet to the fight is Zabran's flowery plain, And once by maids and Thepherds lov'd in vain !

No more the virgins shall delight to rove.
By Sargis' banks, or Irwan's shady grove ;
On Tarkie's mountain catch the cooling gale,
Or breathe the sweets 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 snowy blofsoms crown'd!
But ruin spreads her baleful fires around.

S, E. CA'N DE R. In vain Circaflia boasts her spicy groves, For ever fam'd for pure and happy loves : In vain the boasts her. faireft of the fair, Their eye's blue languish, and their golden hair! Those

eyes in tears their fruitless grief muft fend ;; Those hairs the Tartar's cruel hand shall rend.

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Ye Georgian fwains that piteous learn from fari Eircafli's ruin, and the waste of war ; Some weightier arms than crooks and staffs prepare; To shield your harvests, and defend your fair : The Turk and Tartar like designs pursue, Fix'd to destroy, and stedfast to undo. Wild as his land, in native deserts bred, By luft incited, or by malice led,

The

The villain Arab, as he prowls for prey, :
Oft marks with blood and wasting fames the way ;
Yet none so cruel as the Tartar foe,
To death inur’d, and nurs’d in scenes of woe.

He said ; when loud along the vale was heard A Thriller shriek, and nearer fires appear’d: Th'affrighted shepherds thro’ the dews of night, Wide o'er the moon-light hills renew'd their flight.

A L E T.

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W ,

HILE you, my lord, the rural shades admire,

And from Britannia's public posts retire,
Nor longer, her ungrateful fons to please,
For their advantage sacrifice your ease;
Me into foreign realms my fate conveys,
Through nations fruitful of immortal lays,
Where the soft season and inviting clime
Conspire to trouble your repose with rhyme.
For wherefoe'er I turn my

ravish'd eyes,
Gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise,
Poetic fields encompass me around,
And ftill I seem to tread on classic ground;
For here the muse so oft her harp has strung,
That not a mountain rear: its head unsung,
Renown'd in verse each ih.dy thicket grows,
And ev'ry stream in heav'niy numbers flows,

How

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