THE
PLAINT OF MORAD.
 
VAIN was the youthful hope that fired my soul,
When FORTUNE shower’d her gifts where’er I stray’d,
When she conferr’d the ensigns of controul,
And fertile KHORASAN my rule obey’d.
 
By HONOR summon’d to the field of FAME,
I fought and conquer’d in my Sovereign’s cause,
Applauding millions hail’d my rising name,
And royal favor crown’d their high applause.
 
But soon the dazzling blaze of FORTUNE fail’d,
And ten-fold gloom my prospects overcast:
ENVY’s base demons o’er my prince prevail’d,
Both FAME and FORTUNE sunk beneath the blast.
 
Far from SHERGULZAR’s* proud aspiring towers,
Indignant of the world I bent my way,
In some lone vale to pass my future hours,
And only own, sweet LOVE! thy gentle sway.
 
’Twas LOVE to MORAD gave the maid divine,
Whose paradise of charms he valued more
Than all th’ exhaustless wealth of AGRA’s* mine,
Than all the sparkling gems of VIZAPORE.*
 
But ah! when adverse FATE her victim dooms
To feel the scorpion scourges of DESPAIR,
In vain he seeks the forest’s lonely glooms,
Th’ unwearied demon still pursues him there.
 
Ev’n when I fondly bade each fear farewel,
The cruel TARTAR, with his barbarous band,
Burst the weak barriers of my humble cell,
Where sleep had charm’d us with his magic wand.
 
Abruptly starting at the rude alarm,
I grasp’d my sword, and on th’ invaders flew;
But weak the efforts of a single arm,
Against the fury of that raging crew.
 
Deep wounded and assail’d on every side,
O’erwhelm’d I sunk upon the bloody ground,
While the fierce OUZBEK seiz’d my lovely bride,
Whose helpless cries in clamorous shouts were drown’d.
 
O sacred ALLAH! in that ill-starr’d hour,
Where slept thy thunder in the distant sky?
And where—O where! thy fiend-destroying power,
When heavenly innocence was doom’d to die?
 
DIE! could, alas! my anguish’d heart assume
That cruel hope, to calm its keenest woes;
Soon would I follow to the silent tomb,
Where injured VIRTUE only finds repose.
 
REPOSE! no, never shall my tortured soul
For one short moment taste the balm of PEACE,
Till savage tygers crouch to man’s controul,
Till raging tempests all their fury cease.
 
VENGEANCE! but oh! such maddening woes as mine,
Would vainly seek it from a mortal hand:
O sacred ALLAH! nought but power divine
Can hurl that vengeance which my wrongs demand.