Deep in the grove, beneath the secret shade,
A various wreath of odorous flowers she made:

* Gay-motley'd pinks and sweet jonquils The chose,
The violet blue that on the moss-bank grows;
All-sweet to sense, the flaunting rose was there :
The finish'd chaplet well-adornd her hair.

Great Abbas chanc'd that fated morn to ftray,
By love conducted from the chace away ;
Among the vocal vales he heard her song,
And fought 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 Alock remain :

* That these flowers are found in very great abundonce in some of the provinces of Persia ; sec the modern history of Mr. Salmon,


Ofe as the went, the backward turn'd her view,
And bad that crook and bleating flock adieu.
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.

“ Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd,
" And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd !"

Yet midst the blaze of courts The 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 the 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 fimple lay, of flocks and herds they sung;
With joy the mountain, and the forest rung.

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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 fought the vale where first his heart was fir'd :
A ruffet 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 on Perfia's jewell'd throne,
Be fam'd for love, and gentlest love alone;
Or wreathe, like Abbas, full of fair renown,
The lover's myrtle with the warrior's crown.

O happy days ! the maids around her fay;
O hafte, profuse of blessings, hafte away!

“ Be every youth, like royal Abbas, mov'd;
“ And every Georgian maid, like Abra, lov'd!".








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

Each swain was bleft, for every maid was kind ; At that ftill 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 forrow led : Fast as they preft their flight, behind them lay Wide ravag'd plains, and vallies stole away. Along the mountain's bending fides they ran, 'Till faint and weak Secander thus began :

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