Alas, where is the kingdom's glory now? 'What laurels, oh my son, adorn thy brow? Where is the praise of temperance? Frugal care, • Which should the state's continual waste repair? 'What prayers for thee ascend th' all-ruling sky?. • What kings with awe behold thy majesty? What are the mighty actions thou hast done? Where are the dangers brav'd, the trophies won? 'Where is the bright example which should raise Thy people to contend for virtue's praise, And forming them to what is truly great, • Make thee, indeed, the father of the state? 'No trumpet's clangour thy repose alarms, The soft Zenana is thy field of arms. 'Lascivious dances, and the eunuch's song, Thy revels, shar'd with sycophants, prolong. 'On these thy father's treasure thou has spent: Voice of reproach, and public discontent, 'Thou wilt not hear: thou wilt not see the foe Watching the moment for thine overthrow. Oppression now must prop thy tott'ring throne; "The people's treasures must supply thine own: • Plunder'd and vex'd, thy lewd debauch to feed, 'Thou deem'st, oh madness, they for thee will bleed. Repent. Be wise: Repentance yet may save, 'Assume thy sire, or be thyself a slave.' She ceas'd. The king the just reproof confest, And lock'd her prudent counsel in his breast: Drove from his court the dissolute and vain, And to the good Abdoo'llah gave the rein. Anxious his former folly to repair, Each province feels the sovereign's fost'ring care; Justice and law internal peace maintain; The happy people trade, and arts employ, But full of boding tears the mother queen His spirits fail, his youthful strength decays. His subjects deem his dissipated wealth Afflicts his heart, and undermines his health; With love spontaneous to his court repair, And gold and gems their grateful offering bear. All he refuses, and his secret woe Still dims his eyes, and seems with time to grow. Upon the past he meditates alone, And thinks no penance may his fault atone: Reviews his actions with severest care, Condemns them all, and cherishes despair. Night, welcome season of repose from toil, Renews, with silent showers, the thirsty soil; And the fair moon, in cloudless beauty bright, Makes hill and valley shine with silver light. Amid the general calm, the monarch prest A sleepless couch, and strove in vain to rest. But as the never-ceasing billows roar, Though still repell'd, and vex the groaning shore, In his torn breast regret and conscience keep Perpetual vigil, and forbid to sleep. At length th' exhausted pow'r of nature fails, Stupor o'er ev'ry blunted sense prevails; The blood in even current gently flows, Transient oblivion follows, and repose. Then, through the shade, before his sleeping eyes, A venerable form was seen to rise. Silver his streaming beard, his hoary hair Was gently lifted by the passing air: A flowing robe he wore of purest white, Oh, wretched son of woe," with accent mild, To sorrow joy succeeds, and thou, opprest 'To day with pain, to-morrow may'st be blest. Arise, to Cairo's crowded mart repair, 'And Nilus' sacred wave, there cease from all thy care. The phantom vanish'd, and the monarch rose Refresh'd from sleep, and eas'd of half his woes; Hope fill'd his breast. The queen, with glad surprize, Beheld his vigorous step, his sparkling eyes: But when she heard his purpose, to obey The warning dream, and tempt the dang'rous way, Silent awhile she stood, then flow'd her tears, And thus the prudent matron spoke her fears: Ah me, unhappy! what malignant ray Rul'd the sad hour when first I saw the day. 'What frenzy now, my son, has fir'd thy brain, Thy royal state and office to disdain, 'The law of reason, and the will of heav'n; ' By every breath of fickle fancy driv❜n ; The thirst of conquest, or the hope of fame, Might toil, and change calamitous presage, I would not check legitimate desires, 'Nor strive to damp the hero's noble fires. 'But why should Nile or Cairo yield relief 'More than Bassora for thy secret grief? |