The Poetical Works of William Collins; With a Memoir Part 4

It is with the writings of mankind, in some measure, as with their complexions or their dress; each nation hath a peculiarity in all these, to distinguish it from the rest of the world.

The gravity of the Spaniard, and the levity of the Frenchman, are as evident in all their productions as in their persons themselves; and the style of my countrymen is as naturally strong and nervous, as that of an Arabian or Persian is rich and figurative.

There is an elegancy and wildness of thought which recommends all their compositions; and our geniuses are as much too cold for the entertainment of such sentiments, as our climate is for their fruits and spices. If any of these beauties are to be found in the following Eclogues, I hope my reader will consider them as an argument of their being original. I received them at the hands of a merchant, who had made it his business to enrich himself with the learning, as well as the silks and carpets of the Persians. The little information I could gather concerning their author, was, that his name was Abdallah, and that he was a native of Tauris.

It was in that city that he died of a distemper fatal in those parts, whilst he was engaged in celebrating the victories of his favourite monarch, the great Abbas.[10] As to the Eclogues themselves, they give a very just view of the miseries and inconveniences, as well as the felicities, that attend one of the finest countries in the East.

The time of writing them was probably in the beginning of Sha Sultan Hosseyn's reign, the successor of Sefi or Solyman the Second.

Whatever defects, as, I doubt not, there will be many, fall under the reader's observation, I hope his candour will incline him to make the following reflection:

That the works of Orientals contain many peculiarities, and that, through defect of language, few European translators can do them justice.

ORIENTAL ECLOGUES.

ECLOGUE I.

SELIM; OR, THE SHEPHERD'S MORAL.

SCENE, A valley near Bagdat.

TIME, The morning.

'Ye Persian maids, attend your poet's lays, And hear how shepherds pa.s.s their golden days.

Not all are blest, whom fortune's hand sustains With wealth in courts, nor all that haunt the plains: Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell; 5 'Tis virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell.'

Thus Selim sung, by sacred Truth inspired; Nor praise, but such as Truth bestow'd, desired: Wise in himself, his meaning songs convey'd Informing morals to the shepherd maid; 10 Or taught the swains that surest bliss to find, What groves nor streams bestow, a virtuous mind.

When sweet and blus.h.i.+ng, like a virgin bride, The radiant morn resumed her orient pride; When wanton gales along the valleys play, 15 Breathe on each flower, and bear their sweets away; By Tigris' wandering waves he sat, and sung This useful lesson for the fair and young.

'Ye Persian dames,' he said, 'to you belong-- Well may they please--the morals of my song: 20 No fairer maids, I trust, than you are found, Graced with soft arts, the peopled world around!

The morn that lights you, to your loves supplies Each gentler ray delicious to your eyes: For you those flowers her fragrant hands bestow; 25 And yours the love that kings delight to know.

Yet think not these, all beauteous as they are, The best kind blessings heaven can grant the fair!

Who trust alone in beauty's feeble ray Boast but the worth[11] Balsora's pearls display: 30 Drawn from the deep we own their surface bright, But, dark within, they drink no l.u.s.trous light: Such are the maids, and such the charms they boast, By sense unaided, or to virtue lost.

Self-flattering s.e.x! your hearts believe in vain 35 That love shall blind, when once he fires, the swain; Or hope a lover by your faults to win, As spots on ermine beautify the skin: Who seeks secure to rule, be first her care Each softer virtue that adorns the fair; 40 Each tender pa.s.sion man delights to find, The loved perfections of a female mind!

'Blest were the days when Wisdom held her reign, And shepherds sought her on the silent plain!

With Truth she wedded in the secret grove, 45 Immortal Truth, and daughters bless'd their love.

O haste, fair maids! ye Virtues, come away!

Sweet Peace and Plenty lead you on your way!

The balmy shrub, for you shall love our sh.o.r.e, By Ind excell'd, or Araby, no more. 50

'Lost to our fields, for so the fates ordain, The dear deserters shall return again.

Come thou, whose thoughts as limpid springs are clear, To lead the train, sweet Modesty, appear: Here make thy court amidst our rural scene, 55 And shepherd girls shall own thee for their queen: With thee be Chast.i.ty, of all afraid, Distrusting all, a wise suspicious maid, But man the most:--not more the mountain doe Holds the swift falcon for her deadly foe. 60 Cold is her breast, like flowers that drink the dew; A silken veil conceals her from the view.

No wild desires amidst thy train be known; But Faith, whose heart is fix'd on one alone: Desponding Meekness, with her downcast eyes, 65 And friendly Pity, full of tender sighs; And Love the last: by these your hearts approve; These are the virtues that must lead to love.'

Thus sung the swain; and ancient legends say The maids of Bagdat verified the lay: 70 Dear to the plains, the Virtues came along, The shepherds loved, and Selim bless'd his song.

VARIATIONS.

Ver.

8. No praise the youth, but hers alone desired:

13. When sweet and odorous, like an eastern bride,

30. Balsora's pearls have more of worth than they:

31. Drawn from the deep, they sparkle to the sight, And all-unconscious shoot a l.u.s.trous light:

46. The fair-eyed Truth, and daughters bless'd their love.

53. O come, thou Modesty, as they decree, The rose may then improve her blush by thee.

69. Thus sung the swain, and eastern legends say

FOOTNOTES:

[10] In the Persian tongue, Abbas signifieth "the father of the people."

[11] The gulf of that name, famous for the pearl fishery.

ECLOGUE II.

Ha.s.sAN; OR, THE CAMEL DRIVER.

SCENE, The desert.

TIME, Midday.

In silent horror o'er the boundless waste The driver Ha.s.san with his camels past: One cruise of water on his back he bore, And his light scrip contain'd a scanty store; A fan of painted feathers in his hand, 5 To guard his shaded face from scorching sand.

The sultry sun had gain'd the middle sky, And not a tree, and not an herb was nigh; The beasts with pain their dusty way pursue; Shrill roar'd the winds, and dreary was the view! 10 With desperate sorrow wild, the affrighted man Thrice sigh'd, 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!'

'Ah! little thought I of the blasting wind, 15 The thirst, or pinching hunger, that I find!

Bethink thee, Ha.s.san, where shall thirst a.s.suage, When fails this cruise, his unrelenting rage?

Soon shall this scrip its precious load resign; Then what but tears and hunger shall be thine? 20

'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-crown'd 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 for ever howl around.