ECLOGUE IV. AGIB AND SECANDER; OR, THE FUGITIVES. SCENE, A MOUNTAIN IN CIRCASSIA. I' TIME, MIDNIGHT. 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 paft in radiance thro' the cloudless sky; Sad o'er the dews, two brother fhepherds fled, Where wildering fear and desperate forrow led: Faft as they preft their flight, behind them lay Wide ravag'd plains, and vallies ftole away. Along the mountain's bending fides they ran, Till faint and weak Secander thus began: SECANDER. O ftay thee, Agib, for my feet deny, No longer friendly to my life, to fly. Yon Yon ragged cliff, whofe dangerous path we tried! And laft, this lofty mountain's weary fide! AGI B. Weak as thou art, yet hapless must thou know The toils of flight, or fome feverer woe! Still as I hafte, the Tartar fhouts behind, SECAN DER. Unhappy land, whose blessings tempt the sword, In vain, unheard, thou call'ft thy Perfian lord! In vain thou court'ft him, helpless, to thine aid, To fhield the shepherd, and protect the maid! Far off, in thoughtless indolence refign'd, Soft dreams of love and pleasure footh his mind: 'Midst fair fultanas loft in idle joy, No wars alarm him, and no fears annoy. A GIB. Yet these green hills, in fummer's fultry heat, Have lent the monarch oft a cool retreat. Sweet to the fight is Zabran's flowery plain, No more the virgins fhall delight to rove peace poffeft, SE CAN DE R. In vain Circaffia boafts her spicy groves, For ever fam'd for pure and happy loves : In vain fhe boasts her faireft of the fair, Their eye's blue languish, and their golden hair! Those eyes in tears their fruitless grief must send ;. Thofe hairs the Tartar's cruel hand fhall rend. AGI B. Ye Georgian fwains that piteous learn from far Circaffi's ruin, and the wafte of war; Some weightier arms than crooks and ftaffs prepare, fair: To fhield your harvests, and defend your By luft incited, or by malice led, The The villain Arab, as he prowls for prey, Oft marks with blood and wafting flames the way; Yet none fo cruel as the Tartar foe, To death inur'd, and nurs'd in scenes of woe. He faid; when loud along the vale was heard A fhriller fhriek, and nearer fires appear'd: Th' affrighted fhepherds thro' the dews of night, Wide o'er the moon-light hills renew'd their flight. A LET Bethink thee, Haffan, where fhall thirst affwage, 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 tasteless 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 Yet money tempts us o'er the defert brown, To every Why heed we not, while mad we hafte along, Or |