ECLOGUE I. SELIM; OR, THE SHEPHERD'S MORAL. SCENE, A VALLEY NEAR BAGDAT. TIME, THE MORNING. "YE Persian maids, attend your poets' lays, And hear how shepherds pass their golden days. Not all are blest whom Fortune's hand sustains With wealth in courts; nor all that haunt the plains. Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell; 'Tis virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell." Thus Selim sung, by sacred Truth inspir'd; Nor praise, but such as Truth bestow'd, desir'd: Wise in himself, his meaning songs convey'd Informing morals to the shepherd maid; Or taught the swains that surest bliss to find, What groves nor streams 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, "Ye Persian dames," he said, "to you belong— Boast but the worth Bassora's pearls display: Drawn from the deep we own their surface bright; Self-flattering sex! your hearts believe in vain That love shall blind, when once he fires the swain; Or hope a lover by your faults to win, Who seeks secure to rule be first her care Each softer virtue that adorns the fair; Each tender passion man delights to find; Blest were the days when Wisdom held her reign, And shepherds sought her on the silent plain! With Truth she wedded in the secret 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 shrub for you shall love our shore, By Ind excell'd, or Araby, no more. Lost to our fields, for so the fates ordain, The dear deserters shall return again. Come thou, whose thoughts as limpid springs are clear, Here make thy court amidst our rural scene, Distrusting all-a wise suspicious maid But man the most: not more the mountain-doe Cold is her breast, like flowers that drink the dew; A silken veil conceals her from the view. No wild desires amidst thy train be known; And friendly Pity, full of tender sighs; Thus sung the swain; and ancient legends say The maids of Bagdat verified the lay: Dear to the plains, the Virtues came along; The shepherds lov'd; and Selim blest his song. ECLOGUE II. HASSAN; OR, THE CAMEL-DRIVER. SCENE, THE DESERT. TIME, MID-DAY. IN silent horror, o'er the boundless waste To guard his shaded face from scorching sand. Ah! little thought I of the blasting wind, |