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From early dawn the livelong 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 finish'd chaplet well-adorn'd her hair.

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Great Abbas chanc'd that fated morn to stray, By love conducted from the clase away;

Among the vocal vales he heard her song; And sought, the vales and echoing groves among; At length he found, and woo'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 still her crook and bleating flock remain: Oft, as she went, she backward turn'd her view, And bade that crook and bleating flock adieu.

1 That these flowers are found in very great abundance in some of the provinces of Persia; see the Modern History of Mr. Salmon.

Fair happy maid! to other scenes remove;
To richer scenes of golden power and love!
Go leave the simple pipe, and shepherd's strain;
With love delight thee, and with Abbas reign!
66 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 renew'd 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 mov'd;
"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 in Persia's jewell'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.
Oh 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!”







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 through 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 Wide ravag'd plains; and vallies stole away:

Along the mountain's bending sides they ran,
Till, faint and weak, Secander thus began.


O stay 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 sad 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!


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:
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 swains, like us, in deep despair,
And leave to ruffian bands their fleecy care.

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