Why think we these less pleafing to behold Than dreary defarts, if they lead to gold? Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day,

When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my

O ceafe, my fears! all frantic as I

go,

When thought creates unnumber'd scenes of

woe.

What if the lion in his rage I meet!
Oft in the duft I view his printed feet;

And, fearful oft, when day's declining

light

Yields her pale empire to the mourner night, By hunger rouz'd, he fcours the groaning plain,

Gaunt wolves and fullen tigers in his train; Before them Death, with fhrieks, directs their way!

Fills the wild yell, and leads them to their

prey.

Sad

Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the

day,

When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!

At that dead hour the filent afp fhall creep,
If aught of reft I find, upon my sleep:
Or fome fwoln ferpent twift his fcales around,
And weak to anguish with a burning wound.
Thrice happy they, the wife, contented poor;
From luft of wealth, and dread of death se-
cure !

They tempt no defarts, and no griefs they

find;

Peace rules the day, where reason rules the mind.

Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the

day,

When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!

O hapless youth! for fhe thy love hath won, The tender Zara, will be moft undone !

Big fwell'd my heart, and own'd the powerful maid,

When fast she dropp'd her tears, and thus fhe faid:

Farewell the youth, whom fighs could not

detain;

[vain Whom Zara's breaking heart implor'd in Yet as thou go'ft, may ev'ry blast arise, Weak and unfelt as these rejected fighs! Safe o'er the wild, no perils may'ft thou see; No griefs endure; nor weep, false youth, like me!

O let me fafely to the fair return,

Say, with a kifs, the muft not, shall not

mourn !

O let me teach my heart to lose its fears,

Recall'd by Wisdom's voice, and Zara's tears !'

He faid; and call'd on Heav'n to bless the

day,

[way, When back to Schiraz' walls he bent his

COLLINS.

Conference

Conference between Achilles and Hector, at the Time of that Engagement, which proved fatal to the laft-mentioned Hero.

ENOUGH,

view'd

O fon of Peleus! Troy has

Her walls thrice circled, and her chief pur

fu'd.

But now fome god within me bids me try
Thine, or my fate: I kill thee, or I die.
Yet on the verge of battle let us stay,
And for a moment's space fufpend the day;
Let Heav'n's high pow'rs be call'd to arbi-

trate

The juft conditions of this ftern debate, (Eternal witnesses of all below,

And faithful guardians of the treasur'd vow!)

Το

To them I fwear; if, victor in the strife, Jove by thefe hands fhall fhed thy noble life, No vile difhonour shall thy corps pursue ; Stript of its arms alone (the conqu’ror's due) The reft to Greece, uninjur'd I'll restore : Now plight thy mutual oath, I ask no more.

Talk not of oaths (the dreadful chief replies, While anger flash'd from his difdainful eyes) Detefted as thou art, and ought to be,

Nor oath nor pact Achilles plights with thee:

Such pacts, as lambs and rapid wolves combine,

Such leagues, as men and furious lions join, To fuch I call the gods? one conftant state Of lafting rancour and eternal hate : No thought but rage, and never-ceafing ftrife, 'Till death extinguish rage, and thought, and life.

Rouze then thy forces this important hour, Collect thy foul, and call forth all thy

pow'r.

No