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(From Oriental Eclogue II)
Scene, the Desert. Time, Mid-day
IN silent horror o’er the boundless waste | |
| The driver Hassan with his camels past: | |
| One cruse of water on his back he bore, | |
| And his light scrip contained a scanty store; | |
| A fan of painted feathers in his hand, | 5 |
| To guard his shaded face from scorching sand, | |
| The sultry sun had gained the middle sky, | |
| And not a tree and not an herb was nigh; | |
| The beasts with pain their dusty way pursue: | |
| Shrill roared the winds, and dreary was the view! | 10 |
| With desperate sorrow wild, the affrighted man | |
| Thrice sighed; thrice struck his breast; and thus began: | |
| “Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, | |
| When first from Schiraz’ walls I bent my way! | |
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| “Ah! little thought I of the blasting wind, | 15 |
| The thirst, or pinching hunger that I find! | |
| Bethink thee, Hassan, where shall thirst assuage, | |
| When fails this cruse, his unrelenting rage? | |
| Soon shall this scrip its precious load resign; | |
| Then what but tears and hunger shall be thine? | 20 |
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| “Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear | |
| In all my griefs a more than equal share! | |
| Here, where no springs in murmurs break away, | |
| Or moss-crowned fountains mitigate the day, | |
| In vain ye hope the green delights to know | 25 |
| Which plains more blest, or verdant vales bestow; | |
| Here rocks alone, and tasteless sands are found: | |
| And faint and sickly winds forever howl around. | |
| Sad was the hour and luckless was the day, | |
| When first from Schiraz’ walls I bent my way! | 30 |
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| “Curst be the gold and silver which persuade | |
| Weak men to follow far fatiguing trade! | |
| The lily peace outshines the silver store, | |
| And life is dearer than the golden ore; | |
| Yet money tempts us o’er the desert brown, | 35 |
| To every distant mart and wealthy town. | |
| Full oft we tempt the land and oft the sea: | |
| And are we only yet repaid by thee? | |
| Ah! why was ruin so attractive made? | |
| Or why fond man so easily betrayed? | 40 |
| Why heed we not, while mad we haste along, | |
| The gentle voice of peace, or pleasure’s song? | |
| Or wherefore think the flowery mountain’s side, | |
| The fountain’s murmurs, and the valley’s pride, | |
| Why think we these less pleasing to behold | 45 |
| Than dreary deserts, if they lead to gold? | |
| Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, | |
| When first from Schiraz’ walls I bent my way! | |
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| “O, cease, my fears! all frantic as I go, | |
| When thought creates unnumbered scenes of woe, | 50 |
| What if the lion in his rage I meet? | |
| Oft in the dust I view his printed feet: | |
| And, fearful! oft, when day’s declining light, | |
| Yields her pale empire to the mourner night, | |
| By hunger roused he scours the groaning plain, | 55 |
| Gaunt wolves and sullen tigers in his train: | |
| Before them Death with shrieks directs their way, | |
| Fills the wild yell, and leads them to their prey. | |
| Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, | |
| When first from Schiraz’ walls I bent my way! | 60 |
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| “At that dead hour the silent asp shall creep, | |
| If aught of rest I find, upon my sleep; | |
| Or some swoln serpent twist his scales around, | |
| And wake to anguish with a burning wound. | |
| Thrice happy they, the wise contented poor, | 65 |
| From lust of wealth, and dread of death secure! | |
| They tempt no deserts, and no griefs they find; | |
| Peace rules the day, where reason rules the mind. | |
| Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, | |
| When first from Schiraz’ walls I bent my way! | 70 |
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| “O hapless youth!—for she thy love hath won,— | |
| The tender Zara will be most undone! | |
| Big swelled my heart, and owned the powerful maid, | |
| When fast she dropt her tears, as thus she said: | |
| ‘Farewell the youth whom sighs could not detain: | 75 |
| Whom Zara’s breaking heart implored in vain; | |
| Yet, as thou goest, may every blast arise | |
| Weak and unfelt as these rejected sighs! | |
| Safe o’er the wild, no perils mayst thou see, | |
| No griefs endure; nor weep, false youth, like me.’ | 80 |
| O, let me safely to the fair return; | |
| Say, with a kiss, she must not, shall not mourn; | |
| O, let me teach my heart to lose its fears, | |
| Recalled by Wisdom’s voice, and Zara’s tears.” | |
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| He said, and called on heaven to bless the day, | 85 |
| When back to Schiraz’ walls he bent his way. | |
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