"Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd,

"And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd!"

Yet, 'midst the blaze of courts she 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 renewed the plains with flowers,
Breath'd his soft gales, and led the fragrant hours,
With sure return she sought the sylvan scene,

The breezy mountains, and the forests green,
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 oft 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 russet mantle, like a swain, he wore,

And thought of crowns and busy courts no more. "Be every youth like royal Abbas movd, "And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd!"

Blest 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 jewel'd throne,

Be fam'd for love, and gentlest love alone;

Or wreath, like, Abbas, full of fair renown,

The lover's myrtle with the warrior's crown. O happy days! the maids around her say; O haste, profuse of blessings, haste away! "Be every youth, like royal Abbas mov'd; "And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd!"

ECLOGUE IV.

AGIB AND SECANDER; OR, THE FUGITIVES.

SCENE, A MOUNTAIN IN CIRCASSIA.

TIME, MIDNIGHT.

IN fair Circassia, where, to love inclin'd,

Each swain was blest, 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 shepherds fled,
Where wildering fear and desperate sorrow led:
Fast as they prest their flight, behind them lay
Wild ravag'd plains, and vallies stole away.

Along the mountain's bending sides they ran,

Till faint and weak Secander thus began:

SECANDER.

Oh, stay thee, Agib, for my feet deny,

No longer friendly to my life, to flie.

Friend of my heart! Oh turn thee and survey,

Trace our long 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, whose dangerous path we tried! ·

And last, this lofty mountain's weary side!

AGIB.

Weak as thou art, yet hapless must thou know

The toils of flight, or some severer woe!

Still as I haste, the Tartar shouts behind,

And shrieks and sorrows load the saddening wind: