HAMET AND RASCHID.

AN EASTERN TALE, VERSIFIED. [1 ]

The sultry sun had gain'd the middle sky,

Reigning above in cloudless majesty,

When deep engag'd in pray'r, two neighbouring swains

Knelt where the common bound divides their plains.

Hamet and Raschid;—whilst their flocks around

Panting with thirst, or dying, strew the ground,

With hands uplift they beg their god in pray'r,

Themselves to pity, and their flocks to spare.

Sudden the air grew calm, no zephyr stirr'd,

Through all the valley not a sound was heard,

That instant hush'd was all the vocal grove,

And sounds aerial warbled from above:

Around each shepherd cast his wond'ring eye,

And down the vale was seen advancing nigh,

A mighty Being, whom when near he stood,

They knew that Genius who distributes good;

The sheaves of plenty in his hand they see,

In that the avenging sword of misery.

As nearer still the mighty Being drew,

Trembling they stood, and knew not what to do;

When lo! the Genius breath'd these solemn strains,

Soft as the breeze that cools Saboea's plains:—

"Children of dust! approach, fly not your friend,

I leave the heavens above, my aid to lend;

Water you seek, and water I bestow,

But ere you ask, this useful lesson know:—

Whate'er the body for its use enjoys,

Excess no less than scarcity destroys;

Demand no more than what your wants require,

Let Hamet tell me first his heart's desire."

"O, Being, great, beneficent and kind,

Pardon the fear that overspreads my mind;

On me, great God, a little brook bestow,

That winter rains may never overflow,

And when the summer droughts commence their reign,

Stretch forth thy hand and let the brook remain."

"'Tis yours," with accents mild the Genius cried,

Streams, as he speaks, o'er all the meadows glide,

A fresher green the fragrant shrubs display,

And every leaf in trembling cheers the day;

Slaking their raging thirst, the flocks are seen,

And new-born herbage clothes the earth in green.

"This trifling wish befits a little soul,

Let the great Ganges o'er my meadows roll!"

Thus Raschid spoke, and thus the God replies,

Rage, as he spoke, rode sparkling in his eyes:—

"Insatiate man, this boundless wish recall

Ere ruin whelm yourself, your flocks and all;

See you these sheaves?—Now mark this dreadful sword,

Those are the wise man's—this the fool's reward."

In vain he spoke; and hark, what meets the ear,

The raging flood is now approaching near;

Onward it rolls, o'erwhelming Raschid's plains,

All things it sweeps, and not a tree remains,

His flocks, his herds, the mighty stream o'erpours,

Himself (rash man) a crocodile devours.