With fure return fhe fought the fylvan scene, "Be ev'ry youth like royal Abbas moy'd, "Be ev'ry youth, like royal Abbas, mov'd; And every Georgian maid, like Abra, lov'd!" ་། ECLOGUE IV. AGIB AND SECANDER: O R, THE FUGITIVES. SCENE, A MOUNTAIN IN CIRCASSIA. TIME, MIDNIGHT. N fair Circaffia, where, to love inclin❜d, Each fwain was blefs'd, for ev'ry maid was kind; SECANDER. O ftay thee, Agib, for my feet deny, No longer friendly to my life, to fly. Friend Friend of my heart, Oturn thee, and survey, AGI B. Weak as thou art, yet, hapless, must thou know The toils of flight, or fome severer woe! Still as I hafte the Tartar fhouts behind, And fhrieks and forrows load the faddening wind: SECANDER. Unhappy land, whose bleffings 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 fhepherd, and protect the maid! Far off, in thoughtlefs indolence refign'd, Soft dreams of love and pleasure foothe his mind: 'Midft fair fultanas loft in idle joy; No wars alarm him, and no fears annoy. AGI B. 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, And once by maids and shepherds lov'd in vain! No more the virgins fhall delight to rove By Sargis' banks, or Irwan's fhady grove; On Tarkie's mountain catch the cooling gale, Or breathe the fweets of Aly's flowery vale: Fair scenes! but, ah! no more with peace poffeft, With ease alluring, and with plenty blest. No more the fhepherds' whitening tents appear, Nor the kind products of a bounteous year; No more the date with fnowy blossoms crown'd! But Ruin spreads her baleful fires around. SECANDER. In vain Circaffia boasts her spicy groves, For ever fam'd for pure and happy loves: In vain she boafts her fairest of the fair, Their eye's blue languish, and their golden hair! Those eyes in tears their fruitless grief must fend; Thofe hairs the Tartar's cruel hand shall rend. AGI B. Ye Georgian fwains, that, piteous, learn from far Circaffia's ruin, and the waste of war ; fair: Some weightier arms than crooks and staffs prepare, Fix'd to destroy, and stedfast to undo. Wild as his land, in native deserts bred, The villain Arab, as he prowls for prey, Oft marks with blood and wasting flames the way; Yet none fo cruel as the Tartar foe, To death inur'd, and nurst in scenes of woe. He faid, when loud along the vale was heard A fhriller fhriek, and nearer fires appear'd: The frighted fhepherds, thro' the dews of night, Wide o'er the moonlight hills renew'd their flight THE |