Or love be call'd, what is indeed despair.

Thou Sovereign Power! whose secret will controls

410

The inward bent and motion of our souls!
Why hast Thou plac'd such infinite degrees
Between the cause and cure of my disease?
The mighty object of that raging fire,
In which unpitied Abra must expire,
Had he been born some simple shepherd's heir,
The lowing herd, or fleecy sheep his care,
At morn with him I o'er the hills had run,
Scornful of winter's frost, and summer's sun,
Still asking where he made his flock to rest at noon.
For him at night, the dear expected guest,
I had with hasty joy prepar'd the feast;
And from the cottage, o'er the distant plain,
Sent forth my longing eye to meet the swain;
Wavering, impatient, toss'd by hope and fear,
Till he and joy together should appear,
And the lov'd dog declare his master near.
On my declining neck, and open breast,
I should have lull'd the lovely youth to rest;
And from beneath his head, at dawning day,
With softest care have stol'n my arm away,
To rise and from the fold release the sheep,
Fond of his flock, indulgent to his sleep.

420

430

Or if kind Heaven, propitious to my flame. (For sure from Heaven the faithful ardour came), Had blest my life, and deck'd my natal hour With height of title, and extent of power; Without a crime my passion had aspir'd,

Found the lov'd prince, and told what I desir'd.

Then I had come, preventing Sheba's queen,

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450

To see the comeliest of the sons of men;
To hear the charming poet's amorous song,
And gather honey falling from his tongue;
To take the fragrant kisses of his mouth,
Sweeter than breezes of her native south;
Likening his grace, his person, and his mien,
To all that great or beauteous I had seen.
Serene and bright his eyes, as solar beams
Reflecting temper'd light from crystal streams,
Ruddy as gold his cheek; his bosom fair
As silver; the curl'd ringlets of his hair
Black as the raven's wing; his lip more red,
Than eastern coral, or the scarlet thread;
Even his teeth, and white like a young flock
Coeval, newly shorn, from the clear brook
Recent, and blanching on the sunny rock.
Ivory with sapphires interspers'd, explains
How white his hands, how blue the manly veins.
Columns of polish'd marble, firmly set
On golden bases, are his legs and feet.
His stature all majestic, all divine,
Straight as the palm-tree, strong as is the pine.
Saffron and myrrh are on his garments shed,
And everlasting sweets bloom round his head.
What utter I? where am I? wretched maid!
Die, Abra, die: too plainly hast thou said
Thy soul's desire to meet his high embrace,
And blessings stamp'd upon thy future race;
To bid attentive nations bless thy womb,

460

With unborn monarchs charg'd, and Solomons to

come.

Here o'er her speech her flowing eyes prevail; O foolish maid! and O unhappy tale!

My suffering heart for ever shall defy
New wounds, and danger from a future eye.
O! yet my tortur'd senses deep retain
The wretched memory of my former pain,
The dire affront, and my Egyptian chain.
As time, I said, may happily efface
That cruel image of the king's disgrace,
Imperial reason shall resume her seat,
And Solomon once fall'n again be great;
Betray'd by passion, as subdu'd in war,
We wisely should exert a double care,
Nor ever ought a second time to err.
This Abra then

I saw her; 'twas humanity; it gave

Some respite to the sorrows of my slave.
Her fond excess proclaim'd her passion true;
And generous pity to that truth was due.
Well I intreated her, who well deserv'd;
I call'd her often, for she always serv'd.
Use made her person easy to my sight,
And ease insensibly produc'd delight.

Whene'er I revell'd in the women's bowers (For first I sought her but at looser hours), The apples she had gather'd smelt most sweet, The cake she kneaded was the savoury meat: But fruits their odour lost, and meats their taste, If gentle Abra had not deck'd the feast. Dishonour'd did the sparkling goblet stand, Unless receiv'd from gentle Abra's hand: And, when the virgins form'd the evening choir, Raising their voices to the master-lyre, Too flat I thought this voice, and that too shrill; One show'd too much, and one too little skill;

500

Nor could my soul approve the music's tone,
Till all was hush'd, and Abra sung alone.
Fairer she seem'd, distinguish'd from the rest,
And better mien disclos'd, as better drest.
A bright tiara, round her forehead tied,
To juster bounds confin'd its rising pride;
The blushing ruby on her snowy breast,

Render'd its panting whiteness more confess'd; 510
Bracelets of pearl gave roundness to her arm,
And every gem augmented every charm.
Her senses pleas'd, her beauty still improv'd,
And she more lovely grew, as more belov❜d.

And now I could behold, avow, and blame
The several follies of my former flame;
Willing my heart for recompense to prove
The certain joys that lie in prosperous love.
For what, said I, from Abra can I fear,
Too humble to insult, too soft to be severe ?
The damsel's sole ambition is to please:
With freedom I may like, and quit with ease:
She soothes, but never can enthral my mind:
Why may not peace and love for once be join'd?
Great Heaven! how frail thy creature man is
made!

How by himself insensibly betray'd!
In our own strength unhappily secure,
Too little cautious of the adverse power;
And by the blast of self-opinion mov❜d,
We wish to charm, and seek to be belov❜d.
On pleasure's flowing brink we idly stray,
Masters as yet of our returning way;
Seeing no danger we disarm our mind,
And give our conduct to the waves and wind:

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530

Then in the flowery mead, or verdant shade,
To wanton dalliance negligently laid,

We weave the chaplet, and we crown the bowl,
And smiling see the nearer waters roll,
Till the strong gusts of raging passion rise,

Till the dire tempest mingles earth and skies; 540
And swift into the boundless ocean borne,
Our foolish confidence too late we mourn;

Round our devoted heads the billows beat,
And from our troubled view the lessen'l lands
retreat.

O mighty love! from thy unbounded power How shall the human bosom rest secure? How shall our thought avoid the various snare? Or wisdom to our caution'd soul declare The different shapes, thou pleasest to employ, When bent to hurt, and certain to destroy?

550

The haughty nymph, in open beauty drest, To-day encounters our unguarded breast: She looks with majesty, and moves with state; Unbent her soul, and in misfortune great, She scorns the world, and dares the rage of fate. Here whilst we take stern manhood for our guide, And guard our conduct with becoming pride; Charm'd with the courage in her action shown, We praise her mind, the image of our own. She that can please is certain to persuade : To-day belov'd, to-morrow is obey'd. We think we see through reason's optics right, Nor find how beauty's rays elude our sight: Struck with her eye, whilst we applaud her mind, And when we speak her great, we wish her kind.

560

To-morrow, cruel power! thou arm'st the fair