CHAP. I.

LET the sons and daughters of af­fliction receive comfort from hope.—The motion of the sunbeams on the wave, is not more uncertain than the condition of human life: misery, therefore, has much to hope, and happiness much to fear; but vir­tue has always a resource in Providence, which not on­ly improves the blessings, but mitigates the evils of life.

In a pleasant valley of Mesopotamia, on the banks of the Irwan lived Solyman, the son of Ardavan the sage. He was early instructed in all the learning of the east; but as his understanding opened he grew weary of the labours of study, and thirsted only for the knowledge of mankind. With much importun­ity he prevailed on his father to permit him to travel. "My son," said Ardavan, "let not your curiosity interrupt your happiness: all that nature can give you is in the valley of Irwan, here you are cherished by the eye of affection, and indulged with all the bounties of the eternal sun. Travel is often danger­ous, and always inconvenient: your knowledge of men may be purchased by experiencing their treache­ry, their cruelty and their pride; the unsuspecting innocence of your heart will expose you to the designs of the selfish, and the insolence of the vain; you will [Page 4] wander from place to place, only for amusement; as your heart can have no connections that time or in­terest have rendered dear to you, you will be little af­fected by any thing you see: and, what is more than all, your virtue will be endangered; when you be­hold the universal prevalence of vice, when your eye is attracted by the flowery paths in which she seems to tread, you will find it difficult to withstand the force of example, and the blandishments of pleasure." Solyman humbled himself, and replied—"Prince of the sages that dwell between the rivers, let your ear be patient to the words of youth. Can Ardavan doubt the integrity of the heart, which his precepts have formed to virtue; or fear that Solyman should become the slave of vice? I am not a stranger to the manners of men, though I have mixed but little a­mong them; nor am I unacquainted with the tempt­ations to which I shall be exposed, nor unprepared to withstand them. Travel may be attended with some inconvenience, but it has many advantages: next to the knowledge of ourselves, most valuable is the knowledge of nature; and this is to be acquired only by attending her through the variety of her works; the more we behold of these, the more our ideas are enlarged and extended; and the nobler and more worthy conceptions we must entertain of that Pow­er who is the parent of universal being."

"My son," said Ardavan, "if you are determin­ed to travel, let your ear attend to the instruction of age. Move not one pace from the valley of Irwan, if your heart rely not on the Eternal Providence; it is that confidence alone which must support you un­der all the possible contingencies of distress: O let it not depart from you; it is the sovereign antidote to the evils of live! the day is not lighted up in vain, let it not pass without the practice of virtue; dare not to behold the everlasting sun go down, if thou hast wast­ed his light in idleness, or vanity: ignorance, misery, or want, will always afford thee the means of benifi­cence."

[Page 5]"May that Immortal Being, whose eye is over all his creatures, save thee from folly and from vice! may his hand direct thee in the hour of negligence, and his spirit guide thee through the maze of error! When thy mind shall be enriched with the knowledge of his works, may he restore thee, more virtuous, to the valley of Irwan, to the arms of thy aged father! and may he forgive this tear, which proceeds not from a distrust of his Providence, but falls for the loss of Solyman.

CHAP. II.

THE morning was spread upon the mountains, and Solyman prepared to depart: but first prostrating himself towards the sun, he thus ad­dressed that glorious luminary—"Incomparable, and everlasting! thou that lightest up a thousand worlds, and extendest thy protecting power to the minutest parts of nature! let thy universal eye look with favor upon Solyman. When I wander over the wastes of desolation, may thy cheerful rays comfort and support me! when I go into the cities of men, mayest thou still look upon me; teach me to discover the dark designs of malignity, and to unfold the intricacies of fraud! so mayest thou rise with sevenfold lustre over the waves of Indus; so mayest thou be adorned by those savage nations who experience thy goodness without acknowl­edgment!" After this short address he sung the fol­lowing hymn.

When Solyman had finished his devotions, he passed over the Tigris into the kingdom of Persia.

There is some secret attraction in the place where we have passed the cheerful innocence of childhood, that holds our heart to it during the remaining part of life. No sooner had Solyman ascended an eminence that gave him a retrospective view of the valley of Ir­wan, than he turned his eye on his native fields, and gazed for some time with a kind of pensive compla­cency. "Happy scenes," said he, "where I have be­held the everlasting sun so often rise and set! yonder is the grove where I reposed at noon; and that is the hill where I mused at eve. In yon mansion, I first drew the breath of Heaven; and there perhaps Ar­davan may yet be weeping for my departure."

[Page 7]The gentle heart of Solyman thus indulged itself a while, till the declining day called upon him to pro­ceed.

CHAP. III.

WHEN he had reached the foot of Taurus, the shadows of evening fell from the moun­tains; he, therefore, sought to repose himself in the village of Abdat: but as he was advancing towards it, he was stopped by the exclamation of sorrow, that proceeded from an adjacent wood. As he was in hopes of relieving some distress, he scrupled not to draw near enough to listen; and soon discovered, that the persons he heard speaking, were two lovers, who had stolen a secret interview, before their final separa­tion.

The heart of Solyman had never felt the passion of love; and he was therefore the more curious to see the effects of it. But how great was his astonishment, when, as he approached the place from whence the voices came he beheld the lover lying in all the ago­nies of sorrow, at the feet of his weeping mistress! "Immortal Power!" said he, "I have been told that love was the best of thy gifts; is this miserable, this painful sight, a proof of it? Behold that wretched youth, how his heart labors and struggles under its oppression; while the amiable maiden, who seems to be the cause of his misery, hangs over him in tears and silence, as if incapable of relieving him! Heav­ens, what agonies! Reason will be driven from her seat. Ha! nature gives place; he faints!"

Solyman, perceiving his assistance was now become necessary, rushed into the thicket, and raised the un­happy lover from the earth. At length his senses re­turned; but his grief, which had before been so ex­quisitely violent, was changed into gloomy stupidity.— Solyman, however, by the soothing sounds of pity, [Page 8] awoke his attention, and by gentle importunity drew from him the cause of his distress.

"Stranger," said the youth, "whoever thou art thine appearance entitles thee to regard, and the com­passion thou hast shown me merits my confidence. Thou now beholdest the most unhappy of men. That lady, at whose feet I so lately lay insensible, is the daughter of a mercenary wretch, who has sold her to the Khan of Bukharia: and to-morrow she is to be conveyed to him without expostulation or reprieve."

"What!" replied Solyman, "is it possible that any thing can induce a parent to make his child miserable! I was not ignorant of the depravity of man; but I thought the affections of nature could not have been overcome. Yet, if it is so, can there be any obliga­tion on the child to take the portion of misery that her parent holds out to her? The obligation of chil­dren to parents, can only be founded in gratitude; and where no favor is shown, no gratitude can be due. It is impossible that, in any circumstances, you should be more miserable; but it is very possible, that you may be happier. Fly, while the moments of liberty remain: and let not those hearts which Heaven has formed for each other, be separated by man. The roof of Ardavan has always been a refuge to inno­cence in distress; I will myself conduct you to the valley of Irwan, where my father's venerable charac­ter, and the retired situation of his abode, will secure you from detection; and I shall rejoice to be the means of delivering you from misery."

This offer was too interesting to be refused. The lovers put themselves under the conduct of Solyman; and he now repassed the roads he had travelled by the light of the sun, with superior pleasure, even in the gloom of night; so delightful is beneficence to a vir­tuous mind!

When the morning began to appear they had reach­ed the banks of the Tigris. "It will not be necessa­ry," said solyman, "that I should attend you farther: [Page 9] yonder is the valley of Irwan, and the house of Arda­van. To know that you are unhappy, will be a suf­ficient motive for him to receive you; and your story will procure you his protection. I will now take leave of you, because I would not again take leave of my father. Tell him that I recommend you to his care; he will rejoice to hear that Solyman has been the means of your happiness; but tell him not, that I re­turned to the banks of the Tigris." Having thus parted with the lovers, he proceeded on his journey, and in five days arrived at Ispahan.

The beauty and magnificence of that extensive city engaged his attention for many days: he was now as­tonished at the stupendous effects of industry, and now delighted by the elegance of art. But by these he thought himself rather amused than instructed: and he perceived that day after day departed from him, without being distinguished either by the acquisition of knowledge or the practice of virtue; he, therefore frequented the places of public resort, and endeavor­ed to form such connections as were most likely to pro­mote both.

CHAP. IV.

AMONG those whose conversation he found most instructing and entertaining, he was par­ticularly fond of an English merchant, who had resi­ded some time at Ispahan, and spoke the language of the country: the merchant also perceiving in Soly­man a superior understanding, and a benevolent heart, was delighted with his company, and cultivated his friendship. They frequently met; and their conver­sation generally turning on the manners and pursuits of men, they mutually gratified each other by accounts of their different countries.

[Page 10]"You," said Solyman, "have enjoyed the advan­tages which I am still to procure. You have seen many different parts of the world, and can form a collective idea of its inhabitants: your commercial engagements must have led you much into the inter­ests and designs of men; and you must consequently be well acquainted with the prevailing propensities of the heart. But I should be particularly obliged to you for an account of your own country, of which I have yet had but an imperfect description."

"The difference of men," said the merchant, "lies only in their complexion and manners: their princi­ples are the same, in all ages, and in all climates; and self-interest is the prevailing principle from Indus to the Thames. I am not however such a school phi­losopher, as to think the whole human species should come under this conclusion: I have experienced the delights of friendship, and the consolations of benev­olence, where interest was no motive; I have even known many, who have contributed to remove the miseries of their fellow creatures, though by the dim­inution of their own fortune.—That excellent, that truly useful spirit of munificence, in a particular man­ner characterizes my countrymen. Were you, my friend, in the metropolis of Great Britain, you would behold spacious edifices erected for helpless in­digence; and find the same skill and care employed for the health and the lives of the poor, that the most affluent circumstances can procure for the rich."

"But munificence is not the only ornament that distinguishes my country: there, too, dwell liberty and justice; liberty, that, however strange it may seem to you, delights in the protection of a monarch; and justice, which he causes to be administered without partiality. The greatest bassa in Great Britain can­not invade either the life or the property of the mean­est subject with impunity; he is equally obnoxious to the laws, and would suffer indiscriminately with the most obscure malefactor.

[Page 11]"This general security of property and life excites an unwearied spirit of industry, and disperses the sons of commerce over the remotest regions of the earth. Hence, my friend, we visit the towers of Ispahan, and the gulphs of Bassora; our sails are stretched from the most distant islands of the Atlantic to the shores of Japan: and London is supplied with all the luxu­ries of nature, and all the labors of art."

"You give me," said Solyman, "a very magnifi­cent, and a very pleasing idea of your country. But will not commerce, as it enriches the people, corrupt their manners. Will unbounded affluence produce neither riot nor debauchery, vanity nor pride? The inhabitants of Great Britain may be more splendid and luxurious; but the dwellers in Mesopotamia are, perhaps, happier, in proportion as they are more inno­cent: for Ardavan my father, has frequently told me, that wealth corrupts the heart of man."

"All the good things of life," answered the mer­chant, "are complicated with evils. If wealth be not desirable because it may lead us into luxury, or inflame us with pride; no more would the sanguine cheerfulness of health, lest it should betray us into li­centiousness. There are, it is to be feared, many whose manners are depraved by riches, but, there are, like­wise, many who employ them in the diffusion of knowl­edge, or the relief of indigence.

"These," said Solyman, "are glorious ends, and would almost excite me to turn merchant, for the ac­quisition of wealth. But give me some account of the literature of your country."

"Of that," replied the merchant, "I am scarce a competent judge, the greatest part of my time having been employed in commercial studies. I am not, however, wholly unacquainted with it; for I have al­ways thought, that a merchant should not neglect the accomplishments of a gentleman. The present state of literature in Great Britain will be seen best by con­sidering the performances of the learned in their res­pective [Page 12] classes. We have but few historians of real merit; either their style is slovenly and unharmonious, or their matter undigested and confused; they are ei­ther the tools of a faction, or the slaves of a bookseller. But I have had the pleasure of hearing, since I came to Ispahan, that the histories of England and Scotland, the two divisions of Great Britain, have lately been written with considerable spirit, accuracy, and ele­gance. As to the histories of other countries, which have been published in Great Britian, they are such mere compilations that they deserve not to be called the labors of art."

"From this account of your historians," said Soly­man, "I cannot entertain any great idea of them; but what are your orators?"—"As to rhetorical wri­ting," answered the merchant, we have many that are truly excellent; spirited and elevated in sentiment, in language harmonious and correct: but the powers of composition are rendered inefficacious by a spiritless pronunciation. The art of public speaking, however important in itself, seems entirely to be neglected; and the orator pronounces his discourse from the rostrum with as little feeling himself, and as little influence up­on his audience, as if he were reading the newspaper of the day."—"Then I suppose," said Solyman, "that your orators speak on unaffecting, or uninteresting subjects." "That is not the case," replied the mer­chant; "the subjects they treat are of the last import­ance: the duties we owe the Supreme Being, the dis­pensations of his providence, the eternal obligations of morality, the charms of virtue, and the delightful exer­cises of justice, mercy, and charity."—"Holy Mithra!" interrupted Solyman, "can the speakers be unaffected while they are treating these subjects? Do they then think them of that importance they really are; or do your teachers disbelieve and disregard their own doc­trines; or are they unconcerned what effect they may have upon the people?" "It would be uncharitable," said the merchant, "to admit generally any of these [Page 13] suppositions. Their unanimated and unawakening manner of speaking may proceed from innocent caus­es, which those you mention are not."

"I take it for granted," said Solyman, "that as you have orators, at least in point of composition, you have also poets; for rhetoric and poetry are nearly allied. Besides I have been informed that every country has its poets; and that even on the frozen mountains of the north, the hardy inh [...]tants open their mouths to sing." "The love of harmony," replied the mer­chant, "is in man a natural passion. There is some­thing metrical and numerous in his motions, his ac­tions, and his words, and he has always endeavored to reduce the last to a kind of poetical measure, even where the art of writing was unknown or unpractised. The art of poetry in Great Britain, has of late years been brought to great perfection; the language of the country is both nervous and harmonious, and cal­culated to express the tender and the sublime, in both which species of writing we have poets that have nev­er been excelled. Though the English are, in gener­al, of a less sprightly turn than their neighbors the French; yet, in the active powers of imagination, in the flights of fancy, and the strains of humor, their writings are by no means inferior. Hence the English poetry is not only harmonious, but sentimental and picturesque, abounding with strong images and lively descriptions. In short, my countrymen have attempt­ed every different species of poetry, and have excelled in each."

"The account you give me of your poetry," said Solyman, "makes me very desirous to learn your lan­guage. There is no species of writing that gives me equal pleasure: I caught the enthusiasm from nature, from the harmony and symmetry of her works. If you who have so long been accustomed to the elegance of the English, can bear a specimen of the Mesopota­mian poetry, I will repeat you a performance of my own."

CHAP V.

IN social intercourse the merchant passed many days with Solyman, and while he gratified his curiosity, engaged his affection. Being suddenly cal­led by business to the court of Bassora, he came one [Page 15] morning to take a final leave; but the traveller was too much attached to his friend, to suffer any thing but necessity to part them. "Permit me," said he, "to at­tend you on your present expedition. I have not ap­pointed to myself any particular rout, but travel as occasion or inclination leads me; I am sensible I shall gain more from your experience and observation, than I can from my own." This offer was too agreeable to the merchant, not to be eagerly embraced; and, after the necessary preparations, they set out from Is­pahan, and met the morning on the mountains of Arvan.

The sun appeared above the horizon, and Solyman prostrated himself in the profoundest adoration. When he arose from his devotions, he advanced to­wards his fellow traveller, with a look of kindness mixed with pity and concern. The merchant under­stood him: but as he was unwilling to controvert the principles of his religion, he made no apology for his conduct during the devotions of Solyman.

The mild morning light which was diffused over the vallies and streams, the various beauty of the meadows, the regular disposition of blossomed hedge­rows, the soothing murmurs of bees at their early la­bor, and the full concert of the feathered creation, drew their conversation on the universal beneficence of nature. "I feel," said Solyman, a delight, which I can neither account for nor describe. These moun­tains gilded with the rays of the orient sun, those paint­ed vallies that shame the rich carpets of Persia, yon distant waters which gleam with the shifting effulgence of light, the general busy voice of joy and activity in the animal creation, conspire to fill my heart with in­expressible pleasure."

"That pleasure," replied the merchant, "I believe, proceeds from sympathy: it is scarce possible, unless you have some peculiar cause of misery, not to be pleased when you see every thing around you happy. On the contrary, if you go into the mansions of sor­row, it will be impossible to withstand the infection of [Page 16] it. The God of nature seems to have given us these sympathetic feelings, to link our affections in the great chain of society: hence, social virtue is not left to de­pend solely no the moral will, but is founded on the principles of our nature.

But the object of your adoration is so profuse of his favors, that I should now be glad to find some conveni­ent shade. I think, I discover a cave on the southern declivity of the mountain; let us retire to it during the heat of the day."

As they were advancing towards the cave, they per­ceived a beaten path leading directly from it to a dis­tant rivulet: this made them apprehensive that it might be the habitation of some wild beast, that had worn the path by constantly going to drink at the stream: but their fears were soon removed upon the appearance of an aged hermit, advancing slowly to­wards the rivulet with an earthen pitcher. At sight of the travellers, he hasted to his abode with all the feeble precipitancy of age; they agrees not to dis­turb him, and only took advantage of the rock which projected over his cell to shelter themselves from the sun; but they had not long continued in this situa­tion, before the hermit, perceiving them to be inoffen­sive travellers invited them into his cave.

"You will excuse," said the hoary sage, "the cau­tion of years: these mountains are not secure from the ravage of human ferocity; and these grey hairs would be no defence from the wanton cruelty of man. I have suffered so much from my own species, that I have at last forsaken their society: I thought it better to give up the convenience of it, than to bear the evils; and I have long lived in this solitary cave on nothing more than what uncultivated nature would afford me."—"Those sufferings," said Solyman, "must, indeed, have been extraordinary, that could make you give up one of the greatest advantages of life, the social intercourse of your fellow creatures."— "The narratives of age," replied the hermit, "are [Page 17] seldom agreeable to youth; but as instruction can be gained only from experience, you will do wisely to learn it from the misfortunes of Abbas.

I was born to a competent fortune in the prov­ince of Lurestan: but being early left an orphan, my affairs came under the cognizance of a justiciary court, which the members of it call the court of equity; but so equitable were they with regard to me, that they claimed two parts of my little fortune for their care of the third."—"Would to God, that were never the case in Great Britain!" interrupted the merchant. "But proceed." Though I had such in early and convincing proof of the treachery and rapacity of mankind; yet, as I had always exercised the benevo­lent virtues myself, I could not think others totally devoid of them; and at my three and twentieth year being inclined to travel, I without scruple entrusted the remains of my fortune with a person whom I had long known and respected; a person, Holy Allah! who lifted his hands to thee; but I had not been ab­sent from Lurestan more than three moons, when he pretended a commission to dispose of my effects, and immediately left the place. Upon my return there­fore to the province, I found neither friend nor for­tune; and being bred to no business, I was reduced to the most distressful state of indigence. I applied, however, not without hopes of redress or relief, to a person of power and eminence, whom I had often heard speak of his friendship with my father. After long and frequent attendance, I was admitted to an interview: I laid open my distress to him with that kind of eloquence which the miseries we suffer from the treachery of others always suggests; and which however unaffected it may be to indifferent persons, utters its complaints with dignity and resentment. I was heard half way through my story, and dismissed with the following reply: "It is not necessary, young man, to proceed with your complaints; I perceive you have been abused, and I am sorry for you; But [Page 18] that shall not be the only proof of my regard for you; I will give you a little advice: you should never de­pend so much on the benevolence or integrity of any human being, as to trust him with your fortune or your life." Thus ended my hopes from the friend of my father; whose benevolence extended no farther, than to instruct me how to secure the fortune that was stolen, and to preserve the life which I wished to loose.

I had now no choice, but to enter as a common sol­dier, into the army of the Sophia. I had always de­lighted in martial exercises, and was expert in the use of arms; my dexterity and address drew upon me the attention of my officers; and in a short time obtained a small commission. I had now almost forgotten my miseries, and embraced my new situation with cheer­fulness and hope; but Fortune, who had for a while ceased to persecute me as below her notice, as if she had been indignant at my satisfaction, and jealous of my prospects, now renewed and redoubled her severity.

"My commanding officer had a daughter of extra­ordinary beauty, and an uncommon capacity. Zara was the object of universal admiration: but she had set her heart on the unfortunate Abbas. The first moment I beheld her, I discovered in her looks the most tender and affectionate regard for me, which I imputed to her compassion for my misfortunes; though at the same time I wished, not knowing why, that it might proceed from another cause.—She asked me for the story of my life: I told it in the plainest and most pathetic manner; yet, when I had finished she desired me to repeat it. From this moment I had done with peace; her infectious tenderness had such an influence upon my heart, that I could think of nothing but Za­ra; without Zara I was miserable. A thousand times did I flatter myself, that there was something more than mere compassion in her look and manner; and not many days had passed, before I was convinced of the dear fatal truth from this letter—

"The emotions I felt on the receipt of this letter can only be conceived by those who, in the midst of despairing love, have beheld a gleam of hope. The tumult of my heart hurried me to the place appointed, long before the time: I walked backward and forward in the utmost confusion, totally regardless of every ob­ject about me; sometimes raising my hands and eyes in the sudden effusions of transport, and sometimes smiling with the complacency of delight.

At length the day departed, and Zara came. My heart bounded at her sight: I was unable to speak, and threw myself at her feet. She was alarmed at my excessive earnestness and confusion; but commad­ing me to rise," "Abbas" said she, "if your confusion proceed from your modest gratitude, restrain it, till you find whether I am able to serve you; if it arises from any other cause, I must leave you this moment." I entreated she would tell me, to what I was indebted for the happiness of this interview, and I would be calm and attentive. "My regard for your merit, and my compassion for your sufferings," said she, "make me wish to serve you. Tell me, Abbas, can I assist you through the interest of my father?" I faltered out my acknowledgments: telling her, that to her I must owe all my hopes of future happiness.

She left me immediately without reply. The sin­gularity of my behavior on the parade before the coming of Zara, had drawn upon me the attention of an officer who was secretly her admirer, and who, ei­ther through curiosity, or suspicion, though unobserv­ed [Page 20] by me, had waited at a convenient distance to watch my motions. No sooner did he perceive the approach of Zara, than, as well to gratify his revenge, as to ingratiate himself with her father, he immedi­ately told him of our interview.

CHAP. VI.

ZARA, ignorant of what had passed, with her usual freedom and good nature, began to ex­press her compassion for the misfortunes of Abbas, talked of his merits, and wished to see him preferred. The old general, who was naturally jealous and im­petuous, exclaimed with a burst of indignation, "Yes, I shall prefer him!" Early the next morning he sent my discharge; and while I was gazing in stupid as­tonishment upon my general's letter, a youth, masked brought me a small casket, with a letter from Zara, which to the best of my remembrance, was as fol­lows:"

[Page 21]"In the anguish and confusion of my heart, I fol­lowed my guide without knowing whither he was leading me, or what I was about to do. I vented my grief in broken ejaculations, frequently calling upon the name of Zara, but not once addressing myself to my attendant. By the evening of the second day, we had advanced forty miles southward from the prov­ince of Lurestan; when—how shall I relate the last horrid scene of my miseries!—pardon me! these aged eyes have yet a tear left, yet a tear for the memory of Zara!—we were attacked by a band of robbers. My guide was Zara! in her fright she threw off her mask, and cried "Zara!" Love, rage, fear and vengeance, gave me supernatural strength: three of the villians fell by my sabre; a fourth disarmed me; and the rest of the gang carried off Zara."

At this crisis of his story, the spirits of the aged hermit were exhausted by their own violence; and it was some time before he could proceed.

"You have now" continued he, "heard the com­pletion of my misfortunes. When I was recovered of the wounds I had received, I spent some months in a fruitless search of Zara: at last, despairing to gain any intelligence of her, I transmitted an account of the affair to her father; not without hope, that his Power, or his wealth, might be a means of finding her out, and redeeming her: but I was deceived, and had soon the mortification to hear, that the unnatural wretch exulted in our misfortunes, and uttered the most dreadful imprecations on his only child.

Deprived of hope, and dejected with melancholy, I could no longer bear the society of mankind: I therefore betook myself to these solitary mountains, where this cell has been my habitation for years, that have passed away in unvaried sorrow; and where you are the first of human beings that have heard me tell my tale."

CHAP. VII.

SOLYMAN expatiated on the sufferings of Abbas with the most tender sensibility, and inveighed against the baseness of mankind with all the rage of honest resentment. "Surely," said he to the merchant "man is the vilest of all creatures! in proportion as he excels them in reason, he exceeds them in the ability to do mischief; and being equally cruel, the mischief he does renders him more detestable. Sacred Mithra! why dost thou lend thy light to the villain and the ty­rant? Were it not for the enjoyment of your com­pany, my friend, I should have few inducements to go farther from the valley of Irwan; for possibly to see more of human life, is only to know more of its crimes and miseries."

"From the complicated distresses of one person," replied the merchant, "you draw a partial image of the life of man. But the day declines: let us hasten over these mountains, that we may repose at night in some village of the valley." The travellers took leave of the hermit; and about the close of day arrived at the village of Arden.

At their entrance they were met by a person of a plain dress, and a cheerful countenance, who without ceremony, invited them, as travellers, to partake of his house and table that night. They accepted his in­vitation; and the merchant, addressing himself to So­lyman, said, "From the family of this man, you shall not only be convinced, that there is both happiness and virtue in human life; but you shall see also, how much the former depends upon the latter, I have been entertained by him, in travelling this way before: he is never more happy than when he has an opportunity of gratifying his benevolence. His inheritance being much lessened by the losses of his father, who was a merchant, he has but little wealth, except what arises from the industrious cultivation of a farm, which he purchased ten years ago with the chief part of his [Page 23] fortune; yet he is as liberal to the poor and the stran­ger, as if he had large possessions; his known hospi­tality and generosity make his house the resort of the traveller and the indigent; and after he has finished the labors of the day, he is always ready to entertain the one, and relieve the other; hence that serene and easy cheerfulness which you see in his countenance. In his family you behold the influence of a good ex­ample; his wife, whom he loves, and by whom he is beloved with the most cordial sincerity, goes hand in hand with him, not only through their mutual cares, but also in the exercises of benevolence. It is the principle of her economy, that domestic frugality is the support of liberality; and she dispenses her own, and her husbands bounties, with that propriety and easy cheerfulness, which double their value to the re­ceiver. The children inherit the benevolence of their parents, and learn the exercise of it from their exam­ple. By and by they will croud about your sofa, so­licitous to serve you: you shall see them preventing your wants and watching your requests, with a busy emulation which shall do you the most services."

Solyman listened with delight to his description of the villager's family; and hasted, with the most ar­dent curiosity, to behold that virtue he so much ad­mired. When he found that every thing exceeded the merchant's account and his own expectation, "it is enough," said he, "I am again reconciled to my own species. Notwithstanding the impression I receiv­ed from the story of the unfortunate Abbas, virtue has yet her temples among men! but, surely, she is a villager, and her votaries are the inhabitants of the field!" Full of these thoughts, and delighted with the family of his host, he retired to his chamber, and be­fore he slept, composed the following ode—

CHAP. VIII.

WHEN the dawn of the morning broke, Solyman and the merchant, with the most grateful acknowledgments of the hospitality with which they had been entertained, left the village of Arden, fol­lowed by the kind wishes of their host, and his amia­ble family. They travelled for some days through the southern provinces of Persia, without any remark­able occurrences, or any other entertainment, than such as could be found in the diversity of prospects, and the different labors of men. Sometimes they a­mused themselves with the contemplation of those places, which history had marked out as the scenes of great events; and sometimes had occasion to reflect on the perishable monuments of human magnificence.

The noble plain on which stood the once glorious Persepolis afforded them inexhaustible matter of curi­osity and meditation: this plain extending about nine­teen leagues, abounds every where with villages, and is watered by the great river Araxes. Nature has been so industrious in the defence of it, that she has raised before it mountains, that bear all the appear­ance, and might answer the end of artificial fortifica­tions. From hence the travellers were amused with the ruinous remains of many noble edifices, that had once adorned the range of mountains: but when they were come to that part of them which covered the an­cient palace of Persepolis, the stupendous ruin struck them with silent astonishment. Porticoes, which had withstood the assaults of time more than two thousand years; broken columns of different lengths, rising at considerable distances within the limits of the same pile; sculptured portals, through whose frowning ar­ches the winds pass with a hollow murmuring; num­berless figures engraven on the pilasters of those port­als; and multitudes of hieroglyphics on the different parts of the spacious ruin; gave the travellers a [Page 26] mournful and magnificent idea of the pristine grand­eur of this edifice,

The merchant observing Solyman to be totally ab­sorbed in thought, would not interrupt the melancholy pleasure of his contemplations; but waited, in silence, till, with an air of unaffected concern, he thus expres­sed his sentiments on Persepolis.

"I am at a loss, my friend, in the midst of these magnificent ruins, whether I should think more high­ly or more meanly of mankind. Pride raised this lof­ty edifice, and pride destroyed it.—The vanity of a Cyrus, a Darius, or a Xerxes, adorned those superb columns; and the vanity of an Alexander defaced them. These domes were not reared solely for regal magnificence and security, but to aid the appetites of poverty and luxury, and to secrete the royal pleasures from those that toiled to gratify them. Thus, as this noble structure was possibly raised not only for vanity but for riot; so, probably, by vanity inflamed by riot, it fell: probably at the request of a smiling harlot, the towers of Persepolis blazed for her diversion; probably, because the conqueror had taken too large a draught of wine, this palace, the glory of eastern art, sunk to the ground: a striking instance of the vanity of human labors, and the depravity of human nature! on the other hand, while I consider the work of the artist; while I am delighted with the symme­try and proportion, which is yet to be traced through these maimed ruins, and struck with the bold relief of the ancient Persian achitecture; I forget the motives both of the erection and demolition of Persepolis; and admire the industry and ingenuity of man, that gave such grace and beauty to these massy structures."

"Your sentiments," said the merchant, "are much the same with my own, but give me leave now to con­duct you to a mountain, about two leagues distant from these ruins, and situated between two of the most beautiful plains in the world. This mountain consists of one entire rock, capable of the most exqui­site [Page 27] polish: it is reduced to form by art, and its sides are perpendicular; so that, at a distance, it has the appearance of a wall. Upon this rock are several pieces of bass relief, exquisitely performed; in one of which is represented a combat between the king of Persia, and the king of the Indies; the latter of whom, according to the tradition of the times, was subdued. There are besides many other figures, of which, though you may not discover the design, you will be pleased with the execution."

Solyman proceeded with his friend to the mountain, much delighted, as well with the extraordinary appear­ance of the rock, as the uncommon beauty of the plains that were spread on either hand beneath, inter­spersed with villas shaded by trees▪ extensive meadows, and pastures filled with flocks. When they had grat­ified their curiosity, and indulged their speculations, they proceeded on their journey, and in a short time arrived at the Gulf of Bassora.

The merchant, having here found the vessel he ex­pected, told Solyman, that if his inclination led him to Europe, he could accommodate him with a convenient passage; informing him, at the same time, that his own affairs would detain him some years longer in Persia. Solyman, whose heart was firmly attached to the mer­chant, long hesitated between friendship and curiosity: however, as he must have parted with him had he con­tinued his travels in Asia, and was not totally without hopes of seeing him in what he called the new world, he determined to accept his offer.

CHAP. IX.

AS the ship was to remain some time in the gulf, Solyman took the opportunity to make the tour of India. In his way he visited the Isle of Ormus, than which no part of nature wears a more [Page 28] dismal appearance. Excepting a few houses, which make the capital of the place, the whole looks like a heath blasted by lightning, or burnt up by design. Yet here, in this scene of dreary desolation, Solyman had the mortification to meet with an exile from the city of Ispahan.

"Surely," said he to the unhappy man, "you must have been so unfortunate as to commit some enormous crime, condemned as you are to this miserable abode?"

"Stranger," replied the exile, "I have been unfor­tunate, but not unjust. One day, being at the Persian court, I told a gentleman who stood near me in a low whisper, that I thought the Sultana Moratte extremely beautiful.—This was my crime! and it was the de­cree of imperial justice, that for this I should wear out the remains of life in this dreary solitude,"

"Heavens!" said Solyman, "what madness must possess mankind, to lodge unlimited power in the hands of any one human being! when the decrees of justice must be issued by numbers united, there are many means of restraining partial or illegal sentences: self-interest, revenge, envy, and every other cause of per­verting justice, would then operate feebly, when oppos­ed by public shame, divided interests, and the open appearance of equity. But what comfort can you re­ceive from useless declamation? I can help you to the means of deliverance from this wretched prison; and I think that you are restrained by no principle of du­ty from embracing them; for it is impossible, that Divine Power should enforce obedience to the decrees of injustice. I am now about to travel through In­dia; at my return I will again visit Ormus and you; and if you shall be inclined to exchange your prison for the spacious kingdoms of Europe, I will procure you a passage thither."

The exile heard these words with inconceivable transport; he threw himself at the feet of Solyman, and expressed his delight in one emphatical word cry­ing out—"Liberty, liberty!" the pleasure of the trav­eller [Page 29] was scarce inferior to that of the exile. "Surely," said he to himself, "the diffusion of happiness is the highest bliss that the human heart is capable of! I feel more delight in the hope of defeating the malice of injurious power, than in any thing I have ever met with, either before or since the beginning of my travels.

CHAP. X.

SOLYMAN now left Ormus, and proceed­ed towards the frontiers of India. Though the coun­try lies nearly in the same climate with the southern provinces of Persia, yet the aspect of it is different; and it is furnished with other kinds of plants and an­imals, as well as with people of a different complexion, and different manners: indeed nature seems to have made the intercourse of different nations necessary, by supplying each with some peculiar conveniences.

Solyman passed not through the provinces of the Mogul's empire without instruction as well as amuse­ment. He was skilled in the natural history of plants and animals; and he sound here abundant opportuni­ty to exercise that kind of knowledge. He was often amused by observing, how nearly brutal sense borders upon human reason, in the reflecting sagacity of the elephant, and the adroit mischief of the baboon.

Small, however, in comparison, was the pleasure he received from the natural rarities of India, to that which the excellent administration of justice in the several provinces afforded him.—The police of that country appeared to him most wisely calculated for the preservation of peace and property; the magis­trates that were appointed to administer justice in their several districts, being obliged to keep persons contin­ually employed to watch the dealings of commerce, and attend both to public and private transactions; for the iniquity of which themselves were to be ac­countable, [Page 30] and the emperor might always be appeal­ed to.

But when he came to Delhi, the capital of the Mo­gal's empire, his opinion of the Indian policy was much altered. He there had the mortification to find a ministry of wives, and a court of concubines, at whose discretion the principle posts in the civil and military establishments were usually disposed of; and he who was most recommended by his person and ad­dress, was sure to obtain the highest office in the leg­islature or the army. To find that the bands of music at court consisted only of women, gave him no dis­gust: "There," said the traveller, "the ladies are in their proper sphere. Let them cultivate all the soft and engaging graces: let them employ themselves in the embellishments of art and the excursions of fan­cy; but let them not interfere in the important con­cerns of government; nor raise those to the places of power, whose accomplishments are suited only to their taste."

As Solyman was displeased with the caballing arts of the Indian ladies, so he was shocked at their inhu­man and unnatural supestition. With horror and a­mazement did he sometimes behold a woman, in the bloom of life and beauty, rush into the flames to ac­company the manes of her dead husband: and if na­ture shuddered at the thought of this dreadful sacri­fice, or female softness shrunk into fear or irresolution, he beheld a number of diabolical priests, with execra­ble screams, and faces of honor, pushing forward the poor trembling reluctant woman to the burning pile. "Eternal Mithra!" said the afflicted youth, "what havoc does superstition make among thy works! when once that fiend enters the human heart, nature and reason are driven out; their sacred lights are wholly extinguished; truth and humanity are trampled up­on; and the detested fury leads her infatuated vota­ries through the horrors of darkness, into the arms of death!"

CHAP. XI.

SOLYMAN was the more affected by this infernal custom, as he feared it might one day be the fate of a lady, with whom he had contracted an inti­mate friendship, and for whom he had the most ten­der regard. This amiable person was a native of Delhi, and her name Almena. As the houses in which they lodged were contiguous, she first drew his atten­tion by her music, which was her favorite employment, and in which she was greatly skilled. Solyman had a taste for all the fine arts; and, after the inquiries and observations of the day, he felt an irresistable pleasure, in listening, from his portico, to the evening music of Almena. His heart soon became prejudiced in favor of a lady, who had afforded him so much en­tertainment; and he wished for nothing more than an opportunity of expressing his gratitude.

It was usual for Almena to take a morning walk in the suburbs of Delhi. Solyman observed this; and in­troduced himself to her conversation, by paying his acknowledgments. There is some secret attraction in congenial natures, which draws them together, with­out the forms of a long acquaintance. Solyman was soon convinced, that he discovered, in Almena, a dis­position perfectly suited to his own: her conversation was the picture of a mind enlarged by virtue, and en­lightened by learning: she had none of the trifling follies or the insignificant levity of her sex; yet her manner was animated and cheerful: she had no ebul­litions of giddy wit; but her language was the clear and natural image of polished sense, and unaffected knowledge. Solyman left no means unattempted to cultivate a friendship that promised so much felicity. He constantly attended Almena in her morning walk; and, at every interview, entertained some new senti­ments in her favor. Her heart was not less benevo­lent than his own: "You have seen, my friend," said she, "almost every thing in Delhi, that is worth the at­tention [Page 32] of a stranger; but I suppose you do not make it your business, as a traveller, merely to attend to what is uncommon or magnificent; not merely to ex­plore the different operations of nature, and manners of men. Travel must afford you many opportunities to relieve the indigent, to comfort the afflicted, to in­form the ignorant, or rescue the oppressed. Within the compass of my morning walk, there is a village, the inhabitants of which I call my people; they are all poor; to those that are able to labor, I propose re­wards for the greatest industry; and those who are incapatiated by age or sickness I take under my own protection."

It is easy to conceive how much Solyman would be delighted with this account of Almena. When he found, that, to all the elegant graces of female soft­ness, she added the virtues of benevolence, his friend­ship for her was heightened into the most refined af­fection. On the other hand, her regard for Solyman increased, as she became acquainted with his improved understanding, and generous temper: for virtue loves her own image, wherever it is found.

CHAP. XII.

SOLYMAN had now passed many days at Delhi, in this pleasing intercourse of friendship; hap­py to assist his Almena in the diffusion of happiness, charmed with her virtues, and delighted with her con­versation. The time, however, approached, when he was to think of his expedition into Europe; but the friendship of Almena bound to his heart by stronger ties than that which he had before contracted with the merchant, overbalanced at once every thought of his voyage: he had, therefore, determined to remain at Delhi; when the poor exile at Ormus came into his mind. He started at the thought, as he would have [Page 33] done at the ghost of Ardavan. "Tis done!" said he: "Adieu to Almena; adieu to the dear delights of her friendship, if they must be purchased at the ex­pence of virtue!"

There is no precept of human wisdom conceived to be of greater use, and therefore none more frequent­ly urged, than that we should learn to avoid the evils of life, from the irregularities and misfortunes of oth­ers; yet important as this precept may be, it is, like most others, universally neglected. We observe, in­deed, the events of life; and inquire into their causes with infatiable curiosity; but we seldom draw any conclusions for the direction of our own conduct: we hear or read only for amusement; and the story pas­ses by, without leaving any traces of instruction.

Solyman, who, from the first setting out on his trav­els, had received the strongest convictions of the dis­tresses of love, without the least caution or resistance suffered that passion to make its inroads under the ap­pearance of friendship; and he now felt all the an­guish, which he had before been a witness to, near the village of Abdat. Not once, however, did he hesi­tate between love and virtue: the torrent of his grief for the loss of Almena, violent as it was, could not bear down his determined integrity.

With a heart full of the most piercing sorrow, he went to take leave of his beloved friend: he resolved, nevertheless, to explain the cause of his departure with the most serene indifference, determined not to af­fect his Almena by the appearance of sorrow; he re­solved, and threw himself at her feet in speechless an­guish.

Almena beheld his grief with united sorrow and surprise; and, with tears that flowed from pity and friendship, entreated him to discover he cause of his distress. "It is in vain Almena," said he, "it is in vain any longer to hide my heart from you: nor, in­deed, should I act the part of friendship, to dissemble its feelings. I, who was yesterday the happiest of [Page 34] mankind in the enjoyment of your conversation, am now the most miserable. By the indispensable laws of honor and humanity, I am called from Delhi: but alas! by the love of Almena, I am induced to stay. I know, my friend, there is no alternative: but that knowledge is my misery I go, then, from you and from happiness; perhaps never more to enjoy either; but when I am far from you, it will be some consola­tion to believe that you will remember the love and the truth of Solyman."

Almena, as well as the emotions of her heart would give her leave, replied▪ "Go my friend; go where your virtue leads you, and providence be your guide! Your friendship while I have life, shall not be forgot­ten: no; Almena shall always respect your memory, and love you with the same affection as she does the dearest of her friends."

A flood of tears followed these words; and Soly­man, unable any longer to behold her sorrow, precip­itately withdrew.

CHAP. XIII.

DEPRIVED of that serenity which ever waits on conscious virtue, when free from the great calamities of life, the innocent the once happy Soly­man, was now become the child of affliction. He re­passed the provinces of India in deep melancholy, un­affected by every thing that might excite curiosity or exercise speculation. But, behold the power of virtue! and be convinced, whoever thou art that readest this story, that there is nothing equally capable of allevia­ting the afflictions which are incident to human life.

When he arrived at Ormus, and beheld the joy of the poor exile at the sight of his deliverer, he felt a torrent of pleasure in his breast, overflowing all the oppositions that grief had raised against it. "O that [Page 35] Almena," said he, "were present! that I could com­municate to her the happiness I feel in rescuing this poor Persian from the oppression of tyranny! how would her gentle heart rejoice, and indulge itself with Solyman in the delights of benevolence! Fate has been severe in dividing those whose souls were made for each other: but it has left me this happiness, and I enjoy it."

Solyman was now about to apply to his friend the merchant, who was still upon the coast, to procure a passage for the exile, but he could not resist the desire of writing immediately to Almena; and from Or­mus he sent the following letter:

CHAP. XIV.

AFTER the dismission of this letter, he went immediately to visit the merchant, who received him with the warmest expressions of friendship.— [Page 36] "Welcome," said he "my valuable friend! whose uncommon virtues have made you devote the pleas­urable season of life, to the acquisition of knowledge, and the distribution of happiness."

"For the latter of these purposes," said Solyman, "I now wait upon you. In the isle of Ormus is an unhappy Persian, whom the capricious cruelty of his prince has condemned to perpetual exile in that dis­mal prison. Were he a criminal, justice should have its course; I might then have beheld him with pity, but should not have meditated his deliverance; but he is innocent, my friend, he is innocent, and suffers. Cannot you assist me to effect his escape? cannot he have that passage to Europe, which you obligingly offered me?"

"To facilitate the escape of an exile," replied the merchant, "were as much as my interest and safety are worth in Persia. I must not be concerned in it; but I will introduce you to the captain of a ship, and engage him to serve you in every thing you shall de­sire: after which if you can take the exile along with you in disguise, or by any other means, as your friend or attendant, perhaps he may escape without much difficulty or danger. I have dispatched my business on the coast, and am obliged to return to Ispahan: let us now therefore, if you please, wait upon the cap­tain."

Solyman, as he had been in hopes of procuring the exile a passage without going himself into Europe, from which the friendship of Almena had weaned his inclinations, was somewhat embarrassed by this ac­count. However, as he was determined at all events to deliver the poor Persian, he went immediately to the apartments of the captain, to whom the merchant recommended him as a particular friend who wanted to make the tour of Europe.—The captain received them with the freedom and cheerfulness peculiar to his station, and promised Solyman the best accommo­dation [Page 37] of his ship; but told him, that she must remain there a few months before she could get out of the gulf.

Of this delay, though not answerable to his impa­tient wishes for the deliverance of the exile, Solyman resolved to make use, in visiting his father and the val­ley of Irwan. As soon therefore as he had acquaint­ed the exile with what he had to hope, and advised him to provide secretly for his voyage, and his subsist­ence in a distant country, he sailed from the gulf up the Euphrates as far as where the Tigris empties itself into that river, and from thence proceeded by land to the valley of Irwan.

CHAP. XV.

THE venerable Ardavan had ascended an eminence near his house, to enjoy the beauties of the summer evening, and to offer up a prayer to the de­parting sun for Solyman, when Solyman appeared be­fore him.

What language can paint the emotions of paternal affection? The feeble remains of aged life twice faint­ed beneath the wait of joy. At length recovering he cried—"It is enough! Solyman lives! Heaven has regarded the virtues of my son, and restored him to the arms of Ardavan."

Solyman was not less affected by this meeting; nor less delighted to find his aged parent still enjoying health and reason in the decline of life. But his hap­piness, was allayed with anxiety.—He visited the fa­vorite scenes of his native valley in hopes of finding that delight which he thought to be connected with the idea of them; but his imagination was still at Delhi. As love and melancholy are of the sisterhood of poetry, he had not been long in the valley before he wrote the following lines—

Where are the delights of the valley of Irwan, where the flowery variety of its pastures and mead­ows, its hills that rose gradually to meet the morning sun, and its groves that spread their foilage to exclude the heats of midday? Wrapt in the gloom, of pensive solitude, the son of Ardavan was now negligent of these, and of all that once delighted or amused him. In vain did his father desire a relation of his travels; and in vain did he begin it: when he attempted to speak of Persepolis, he gave a description of Delhi; when he was asked after some other place, he mention­ed the village of Almena: instead of describing the people of India, he described the person of Almena; and when an account of their manners was requested— "Her manners," he replied, "are such as the immor­tal Mithra looks down upon with delight."

CHAP. XVI.

ARDAVAN was now no longer at a loss to account for the gloomy inconsistency of his son's behavior: but willing to be still more convinced of what he suspected to be the cause, he applied to his passions the story of those lovers whom he had rec­ommended to his care. At the mention of the lov­ers, Solyman was roused from his melancholy negli­gence, into the most eager attention. "Tell me, my father," said the impatient youth: "tell me, I en­treat you, the fate of the lovers?"

"I thank you," replied the sage, "for putting it in my power to assist the unfortunate. From your com­passion for the sufferings of these lovers, and your at­tempt to alleviate them, you will feel more sensibly [Page 40] the power of the same consolation, when your own heart becomes a prey to the distresses of love."

Solyman discovered, by his emotions, the effect which this short preface had upon him.

"You know," continued Ardavan, "a small build­ing which I erected some years ago for a retreat in the summer months; you remember its situation, in the depth of a spacious wood; which is only accessi­ble by one narrow passage, to which I have provided a door, so beset with evergreens, that it is impossible for the most curious eye to perceive it: the canal of running water in the middle of the wood, and the beautiful grass-plat I have extended, since you left me, to the summer-house. To this place I conducted the lovers as soon as I had heard their story. There they continued for some time, attended by one of my faith­ful domestics, who supplied them with every necessa­ry; and they were visited almost every day by myself. O, my son, how exquisite was the delight, to behold the happiness of this innocent pair, and at the same time to consider myself as in some measure contribu­ting to it! Surely this was to partake of the pleasure of the Deity, which we believe to consist in his uni­versal power of removing evil and dispensing good!

"After some time I was informed, that the khan of Bukharia, who had purchased the maiden of her father, was deposed and banished by the Sophi. This gave us new hopes; and it was agreed that the youth should return to Abdat, to learn the disposition of the unnatural parent. He accordingly went; and told him, that he would endeavor to find his daughter, upon condition that he would consent to their marriage. The wretch, though he was no stranger to their mu­tual passion, insisted that no man should ever have his daughter who would not pay the same price for her which the khan of Bukharia had offered.

"As this price far exceeded the ability of the lover, he returned to Irwan, fallen from those pleasing hopes, which he had so lately formed, of enjoying at once [Page 41] his love and his liberty. The father, convinced that his daughter was in the possession of the young man, and not now without hopes of recovering her, and of­fering her again to sale, hired a set of ruffians to watch his return, and to extort from him a confession of the place where she was secreted. Of this design▪ however, he was timely apprised by an honest villager of Abdat, to whom one of the ruffians had commu­nicated their business; and he came off in disguise, and escaped their notice.

"About two months after, it was reported that the father had died of vexation for the disappointment of his avaricious views; I, therefore dispatched a servant to inquire into the truth of this report; and finding it confirmed, conducted the lovers to Abdat without farther apprehension. The maiden, who was an only child, inherited her father's fortune, which was very considerable: but as great part of it had been amas­sed by oppression, she made restitution to those whom his avarice had injured, and she now enjoys the re­mainder with happiness and her lover."

"What you tell me," said Solyman, "gives me in­expressible satisfaction: for the lovers are possessed of eminent virtue; and to be instrumental to the happi­ness of virtuous lovers, is the most delightful task within the province of benevolence. Indeed, those hearts only that are generous and noble can be capa­ble of the tender sensibility of love: for the breast which harbors malignity and envy, can never feel the sympathetic tenderness which is the very essence of that gentle passion."

"Your observation," replied the sage, "may be very just; and it is therefore the more necessary for those to whom nature and the principles of a virtuous education have given the blessing of an open heart, to guard against the inroads of that passion: if there is no probability of an uninterrupted enjoyment of its object, they should look upon its advances, as of an evil that will destroy their peace, The pleasures of [Page 42] real-love are, perhaps the most refined, the most deli­cate and sensible, of any we are capable of enjoying: but believe me, those are fortunate lovers, who are in­demnified by these, for the many uneasy hours, the restless anxieties, and the painful apprehensions they undergo."

In these general terms did Ardavan deliver his in­structions to his son, who received them with a silent conviction of their truth and propriety; and imme­diately after this conversation, retired to offer up the following prayer to the Sun for Almena.

"Incomparable and Everlasting! whose universal eye sees nothing fairer, nothing more virtuous, than Almena; O let that eye look upon her with the vigi­lence of a parent. She most resembles these in the continual exercise of beneficence; cherish, therefore, those virtues that are congenial with thy own; and let the dear possessor, through thy benignant influence, enjoy the constant blessings of health and cheerful­ness: but if some portion of sorrow be the birthright of every human being, immortal Mithra! may Al­mena only sigh for the absence of her friend!"

CHAP. XVII.

IN such exercises did Solyman employ his retired hours, till the time approached for his return to Ormus. As he was determined if possible, to a­void going into Europe, he made no mention of that circumstance to his father: his engagements to the ex­ile were a sufficient reason for his departure▪ and, in a short time, he arrived at the gulf, and waited upon the English captain, who was preparing for his voy­age. Solyman informed him, that upon some inter­esting occasion he was obliged to relinquish his design of visiting Europe; but that he would recommend a Persian lady to his care, who was bound for England; [Page 43] and he begged that she might enjoy all the retirement her situation could afford. As no objection was made to this proposal, he privately purchased the habit of a Persian lady, which he concealed some days on the coast of Ormus; and, under favor of the night, he found no difficulty to procure a boat to the English vessel. In a few hours they got under sail; and hav­ing received repeated assurances of the captain's eare, and engaged the good offices of his crew by a hand­some gratuity, he procured a passage by sea to the coast of India.

The state of his heart was now very different from what it had been a few days before: he had discharg­ed his engagements to the exile, with all the success that he could wish; and his face was now set towards Delhi. On he travelled with the eager pace of a lov­er, and in a few days reached the capital of the Mo­gul's empire.

The evening he arrived, he flew to the house of Al­mena, who received him with emotions of tenderness which she was scarcely able to conceal. When the first salutations were passed, she asked him how he had disposed of the exile, and why he did not accompany him to Europe as he had proposed. He informed her by what means he had procured the exile's escape; adding, that from the letters he had written, if she had received them, she might at once see the reason both of his rejecting the European voyage, and his return to Delhi.

"What would it availed me," said he, "to have visited the distant regions of the universe! What pleasure or amusement could I have expected to find in Europe, when all my heart holds dear was still in Asia? Believe me, this place is now more than the whole world to me; and the friendship of Almena is the only pleasure I can enjoy."

"I have received your letters," said she; "and if they speak the language of your heart, I am no stran­ger to its feelings. To deal ingenuously with you, I [Page 44] am sensible of your merit, and admire your virtues: and were I not more happy in my present condition, than I could hope to be in any other, I know not the man, with whom I would rather divide the enjoy­ments of life, than with Solyman."

"Is it possible, then," said Solyman, "that you can think the condition of celibacy happier than that of marriage? Undoubtedly, the principal happiness of mankind depends on the intercourse of society, and the connections of friendship; marriage is nothing else but a state of friendship, in which the friends by u­niting their interests, have a constant and uninterrupt­ed enjoyment of each other. Nature aids this union, and reason approves it: can any condition bid fairer for happiness, than that in which the mutual delights of friendship can only be torn from us by the hand of death?

"There may be some truth," answered she, "in what you observe; but there is an inconstancy in hu­man nature, that makes it dangerous even for two friends to enter into any connection that cannot be broken; and an unaccountable caprice, that makes us quarrel with our happiness, because we are sure of en­joying it."

"Were we deterred from every pursuit," said So­lyman, "by the apprehension of those inconveniences which the foibles and frailties of our nature might bring upon us, we should never be either virtuous or happy; but might languish away our lives in solitary and unsocial indolence. To avoid the inconveniences of human inconstancy, marriage is, surely, the best institution in the world; for what could be more like­ly to fix the inconstant, than the habitual intercourse of kindness and good offices: than that gratitude, which is due to the long exercise of affectionate ten­derness; and those dear pledges, which must depend for happiness and support on the unanimity of their parents?"

[Page 45]"There is, indeed, an insuperable objection to your being married in India: I mean, that contempt, or the horrid alternative of torture, which is entailed on the unhappy woman who survives her husband. But that objection shall vanish immediately," continued the lover, with a look of passionate earnestness: "let us go, my friend, let us go to love and happiness in the valley of Irwan. That place, which so lately af­forded a retreat to the lovers whose distresses I have related to you, shall then become eternally sacred to love and friendship: that place, whose beautiful scenes I so lately beheld with indifference, I shall then visit with rapture.—Extacy is in the thought! to enjoy, with Almena the shades of Irwan; with her to walk in my native fields; with her to pluck down on the banks of my favorite stream; for her to pluck the flower, whose beauty may have drawn her attention: to lead her through these romantic scenes, that delighted the innocent enthusiasm of my childhood: and to show her the more solitary retreats, which I sought when her friendship had first taught me to sigh!"

Thus Solyman poured out the natural and passion­ate sensations of love; and Almena, whose heart was far from being indifferent to him, easily caught the enthusiasm. "To your honor and your friendship," said she, "I can trust every thing. I am ready to at­tend you to those scenes, of which you have given me so lively a description; whether they may answer it or not, or whatever they may be, the friendship of Solyman, will make them agreeable."

It is easier to conceive than to express the joy which, the lover felt upon this declaration. Within a few, days they set forward from Delhi, on their journey to the valley of Irwan; and for the greater expedition, and the less fatigue, they determined to go by sea, and accordingly proceeded to the coast, where they went on board a trading vessel bound for the Persian gulf.

CHAP. XVIII

AT that time there was a war between two petty princes of the higher peninsula of India; and unfortunately, the ship in which they embarked be­longed to one of these powers.—They had not proceed­ed above five leagues from the coast, when they were pursued by the foe. After an obstinate and bloody engagement, they were boarded; and their enemies, when they had stripped the vessel of every thing valu­able, dismissed it.

They dismissed the vessel; but they took Almena. What heart does not bleed, what eye does not shed a tear, for the miserable Solyman; They dismissed the vessel; but they took Almena! Prayers and tears, and agony and anguish were vain. The lover saw his dear, trembling, fainting maid, dragged by the hands of the unfeeling sailors into their own ship, after they had bound him, to prevent the effects of his rage, "I ask not for your mercy," cried the wretched youth: "only take me into your vessel along with that lady, and prepare your tortures, your racks, and wheels: for me prepare them, and let me perish, before these eyes lose sight of Almena!"

While Solyman was vainly uttering these pitiable exclamations, the enemy steered away, and was in a short time out of sight. The men of the ship in which he was, apprehensive of some bad consequences from the violence of his rage, were prudent enough to let him continue bound; while he now loaded them with the reproachful terms of slaves and cowards, and now excited them by promises, or entreated them by pray­ers, to pursue the foe.—The ship having lost her freight, did not proceed on her intended voyage, but returned to the coast of India

When they arrived, Solyman was informed that the vessel which had taken them belonged to the king of Sundah, who at that time was at war with the king of Kanara. Upon this information, as soon as he had [Page 47] received intelligence of the situation of the kingdom of Sundah, he went immediately in quest of Almena. Though almost worn to death with fatigue and sor­row, he travelled night and day, till he reached the country. But, alas! when he was there, what could he do? Stranger as he was to the people, and in a great measure to their language, he had as much to hope from chance, as from application, for the discov­ery of Almena.

He would now have sunk under the weight of his misfortunes, had he not availed himself of the first advice of Ardavan, and firmly relied on the Eternal Providence. "Immortal Mithra!" said the afflicted youth, "thou beholdest me oppressed with misery: but thy beams still shine upon me; and while I enjoy thy light, I will hope for thy favor!"

Thus comforting himself, he still continued his search: depending, for the necessary supports of na­ture, on the precarious bounty of the villages through which he passed; frequently making the mountain rocks the refuge of his night's repose, when nature, exhausted with toil and sorrow, in her own defence in­clined him to sleep. He wandered incessantly from town to town, and from province to province; often exposed to the attacks of savage beasts, and often suf­fering the insults of the more savage people.

Having in vain gone over a large tract of the in­land country, he now confined his search to the coast, in hopes that he might again see the vessel which took his Almena. Day by day he wandered on the beach, constantly casting his eyes on the immense waste of waters, and watching the approach of every vessel he saw, with the same impatience of expectation, as if he had been assured that it contained Almena.

CHAP. XIX.

AS he was walking one evening by the cas­tle of Sevasir, he heard a mournful voice proceeding from a garden within the fort. Solyman never neg­lected the voice of sorrow: he went nearer to the place from whence it seemed to proceed; and looking through the iron palisadoes, with which the garden was encompassed, he beheld a lady sitting in a melan­choly posture on a flower-bank at a small distance.

In the irresistable transport of his heart, he cried a­loud—"Almena!" The lady rose; and as she came towards him, he perceived his mistake.—"Pardon me, Madam," said he; "I am an unhappy man who have lost every thing that is dear to me, in a lady whom I have sought in vain for many months in this province; where I have still reason to believe she is confined, if indeed she yet lives; if she is not fallen a sarifice to her own miseries, or to the barbarous cruelty of the villains who tore her from me.

"Stranger," said the lady, "it is long since I have known any comfort myself, and I am afraid I can have little for you. Your miseries affect me much: the same did my beloved husband once undergo, for whom I now mourn, and must forever mourn in hope­less sorrow."

"Is your husband then dead?" said Solyman; "or is he only lost to you as Almena is to me? if the lat­ter is the case, you may yet have hope; the all-seeing eye of Providence looks down upon all his creatures, and he will assuredly redress the misfortunes of the virtuous.

"We were inhabitants," replied the lady, "of the kingdom of Kanara. The Sundians, who made an incursion into our territories, amongst many other wretched people, carried off my husband and me—" "How, madam!" interrupted Solyman: "they were merciful, if they suffered your husband to accompany you."—"Their mercy," said she, "did not extend so [Page 49] far: they presented me to the governor of this castle; and my husband they imprisoned in a distant part of the kingdom.

Ever since I came within these hated walls, their savage master has aggravated my miseries, by the mortifying offers of his love; totally regardless of my sorrow and distraction, a thousand times has the unfeel­ing wretch insulted my torn heart with odious caresses, and still continues to persecute me in the same manner, upbraiding me with ingratitude for what he calls his kindness in permitting me to live. But I am not a­lone in my misfortunes; here are numbers of unhap­py women under the same confinement, whose suffer­ings too nearly resemble my own. Some of them, like me, have still resisted the importunities of the tyrant; while others, more, I hope through fear than inclina­tion▪ have unhappily submitted to his will."

At these words, terror and apprehension were again roused in the heart of Solyman, and created a conflict which shook his frame. He stood aghast and motion­less for a moment: at last recollecting himself—"Is there" said he, "tell me, Madam, is there a lady with­in these walls, a native of Delhi, who was taken some months ago from on board a Kanarian vessel by the Sundians?

"To that question," said the lady, "I can make no answer: we are all kept in different apartments, and not allowed to converse with each other; we are not even permitted, but alone, to walk in these gardens: and should I now be observed to talk with you, though through these detested bars my future liberty would probably be endangered. All that you can do to know, whether the lady you have lost be in this place, is to attend at the different hours of the day near these pal­isadoes; where you will be able to observe, in their respective turns, the appearance of the women in the gardens. But you will incur great danger in the ex­periment: and, after all, should you find that your la­dy is here, what can it avail you? You will only have the mortification to know it, without being able to rescue her.

CHAP. XX.

SOLYMAN took his leave of the lady; and having formed his resolution, waited with the ut­most impatience for the light of morning. He hap­pened, indeed, to be so far secured from suspicion, as to be dressed in a Sundian habit, which belonged to an officer of the ship that carried off Almena, who compelled him to take it in exchange for his own. But insensible of danger, at the earliest dawn he hast­ed to his post, and passed the day in alternate hope and despair: he saw many women, but he saw not Almena. In the evening therefore, regretting the disappointment even of those expectations which he dreaded to have confirmed, he resolved to quit his sta­tion till the return of morning, when, by the glim­mering of the moon, he perceived another lady enter the garden.

As she came nearer, her image glanced through his heart more swiftly than the lightning smites the traveller on the mountains of Hima. The lady was Almena. In a burst of transport, he cried— "Al­mena! Solyman!" Struck at once with the voice, the name, and the figure of Solyman, surprise over­came her, and she fell senseless upon the terrace.

Solyman, unable to enter the garden, in an agony of terror cried out—"Save, save my Almena; at the same time running round the walls in the utmost distraction. His exclamations alarmed the guard, who immediately secured him; though, from his cries and confusion, they concluded him to be mad, and made their report of him as such to the governor of the castle, who ordered him to be immediately brought before him.

Solyman, the moment he beheld the governor, fiercely cried out—"I conjure thee, if thou art a hu­man being, let me instantly fly to the relief of a lady in the garden." The governor was alarmed by an appearance of reason in this request, and ordered him [Page 51] secured, while he went himself into the gardens to know if there was any foundation for it. There he found Almena supporting herself against the wall, not having perfectly recovered either her strength or reason. "Art thou, indeed, my Solyman? said she: "if thou art my Solyman, support me in thy arms." in his arms he took her, and bore her to a pavilion: where he held her till her reason returned. She turn­ed her eyes full upon him; and, with a look of fear and sorrow, shrunk from his embrace.

"Tell me, Madam; I beseech you tell me," said the governor; "what is the cause of this distraction? Why are those dear eyes so full of wildness and hor­ror? and why do you look upon your protector with such aversion? Is there then some other person more happy in your favor and affection? and must I forev­er languish at your feet in vain?"

"If thou hast any other affection for me," said Al­mena, "than that which is inspired by brutal instinct; if thou hast more feeling than the walls that sur­round thee, thou wilt surely pity me. The dear un­happy man, whom I fear ere now thy guards have seized, is the friend for whose loss thou hast known me mourn ever since I came within thy power. Yes, thou wilt pity me for thou has wept: when I related to thee my miseries the tears of compassion flowed from thine eyes. Let us throw ourselves at thy feet; let us owe our happiness to thee, and thou shalt have all the affection which is not due to Solyman.

The weeping beauty, as she uttered these words, threw herself before him in such an agony of sorrow, and such a posture of supplication, as would have moved any heart in which vice had not extinguished every spark of humanity. Far from being affected by it, the governor of Savasir made her the follow­ing answer— "Absurd and vain! to suppose that I should tamely yield that happiness to another, which I could never obtain myself. Know, Madam, that both you and your lover are now in my power; and [Page 52] that he has no indulgence to hope for but what your kindness to me may procure him." With these words he withdrew; rather less offended at the thought of having a rival in Almena's affections than pleased with the hope that he might terrify her into compliance by his menaces against her lover.

Almena remained in the most pitiful distress, shar­pened by painful apprehensions for her own honor, and the life of Solyman; and wandering alone into the garden she added one night of sorrow more to the many she had suffered.

Great God! what misery may one villain, armed with power, bring upon thy creatures! Were there not a state of existence, where vice shall be punished and virtue rewarded, how would thy works seem to reproach their Almighty Maker! But let the sons of men learn, that he who is infinitely wise, is also per­fectly just; and that he can as easily take cognizance of the moral conduct of his creatures, as he could at first create this immense system of the universe, in which the minutest creature declares the skill of the Architect.

CHAP. XXI.

THE i [...]pous tyrant of Sevasir enjoyed the balm of sleep and the refreshment of rest, while the virtuous Solyman and Almena suffered the most grievous affliction.

When the morning appeared, Nagrakut, for that was the wretch's name, went at the usual hour into the garden, Almena who was still there, overcome by the weight of continual sorrow, had sunk into a tran­sient slumber on a bench in the pavilion. Nagrakut, approached and stood by her as she slumbered. There was a sight that might have excited tenderness in the breast of a savage: but it moved not the heart [Page 53] of Nagrakut, nor awakened any other passion in him but that of a libidinous desire. In a dream, she wav­ed her hand, and cried, with a voice of mournful ten­derness, "Do not murder him, Nagrakut! Let my Solyman live!" then letting fall the hand she had raised, she sunk again into silent slumber.

Nagrakut yet felt no pity; but placing himself near her on the bench, inclosed her in his arms. She awoke; and finding herself in the embraces of the ty­rant, shrieked out with the most distressful horror. Her cries pierced the cell where Solyman was confin­ed. With the united strength of rage and terror, he burst the door of his prison; and running through the apartments of the castle with a dagger in his hand, which he had fortunately snatched up in the way, he flew to the Garden.

Almena was still shrieking and struggling in the arms of Nagrakut, who endeavoring to sooth her to his embraces, had not observed the approach of So­lyman. "Villain," said Solyman, "remove thy ex­ecrable hands from the person of that lady, and em­ploy them in the defence of thy own!" Nagrakut, who was the most abject coward, called aloud to his guards. "Coward! slave!" said Solyman; "draw this instant, or my dagger shall pierce thy heart." Nagrakut then fell at his feet; and begging for mer­cy, promised him Almena and liberty. "This mo­ment then," said Solyman, "dismiss us from thy cursed prison." No sooner had he uttered these words than the guards appeared. Nagrakut imme­diately beckoned to them to seize him: but Solyman, observing his motion, hastily ran up to him, and plunging his dagger into his heart.

The tyrant fell. No way of escape, however, was lest for Solyman: he was instantly seized by the sol­diers, loaded with heavy chains, and shut up, with Almena, in a strong apartment of the castle: with Almena he was shut up, for jealousy now no longer [Page 54] parted them; and she was considered as an accom­plice in the murder of the governor.

This circumstance administered inexpressible con­solation to them both. "At last, my Almena," said the lover, "fortune has brought thee to my arms; but after what miseries, good Heaven! and in what circumstances! Yet my Heart never once doubted the justice or the care of Providence; we shall yet be happy in the valley of Irwan."

The spirits of Almena were so exhausted by the successive ravages of terror, sorrow and surprise, that she reclined for some time in the arms of Solyman, unable to speak, and only venting her grief in broken and feeble sighs. The officers of the castle of Seva­sir had sent in the mean time to the king of Sundah, to know in what manner he would have the muderers of the governor executed.

The death of a villain is seldom regretted, even by those to whom his villainies have been of service. The king of Sundah always hated the governor of Sevasir; but he dared not depose him, because he had been established under him by the mogul: he, therefore, sent no other commands to the officers of the castle, but that the prisoners should remain there till farther orders.

Not long after this, a body of Kanarians entered the country of Sundah, and laid seige to the castle of Sevasir. As the death of the governor had thrown all into confusion, the fort was easily carried; and the Kanarians took prisoners all that were within the castle. Solyman and Almena, though they could not be displeased at this change of fortune had yet another to encounter, which might prove as fatal to their happiness as any they had escaped could have been.

It is a custom in the eastern nations, to present the women taken in war to the kings, that they may select whom they like: and the rest are divided among the officers, according to their several ranks. All the la­dies [Page 55] that were taken in the castle of Sevasir, had this fate to undergo; and as the governor had been curi­ous in his choice, these women were looked upon as a most valuable capture.

CHAP. XXII.

THEY were immediately conveyed to the court of Kanara, and presented to the king for his choice. They all stood before him at the same time; and he looked upon each of them for some minutes: but his eye dwelt longer on Almena than the rest. Unfortunately, she observed this; and her fear and confusion new animated her features, and gave fresh beauties to her complexion. The king immediately selected her, and the rest were dismissed.

Solyman was all this time kept with the garrison of Sevasir as a prisoner of war: but at length hav­ing convinced the Kanarians, that he had no connec­tions with the king of Sundah, and that he was wil­ling to enter into the service of their prince, his liber­ty was restored him. This was the only means by which he could attempt the recovery of Almena; who, as he was now informed, was retained by the king. He immediately repaired to the capital of Kanaria; and signifying to the officers of the court that he had some important intelligence relating to the war, to communicate to his majesty, he gained an easy admittance to him.

When the king appeared he prostrated himself be­fore him; and being commanded to speak, he thus expressed himself: "Let the king of Kanaria live! for his ear is open to the complaints of the unhappy, and he despiseth no man for the miseries which chance hath brought upon him."—"I am a man," interpos­ed the king; "proceed."—"It was my hand that put an end to the life of your enemy, the governor of Se­vasir. [Page 56] "In that, replied the prince, "you did me a sig­nal service: but let me know your motives; and I shall be better able to judge of the action, as well as of my obligations to you for it."

"O Prince!" said Solyman, "I was possessed of a lady, more beautiful than the star that overflows its urn in the evening, and dearer to me than the life drops of my heart. We were on board a Kanarian vessel that was trading to the Persian Gulph; and were bound to the valley of Irwan in Mesopotamia, the place of my nativity: but alas! before we had proceeded many leagues from our coast, we were boarded by a pirate of Sundah. We were plunder­ed and dismissed; but the dear partner of my heart was taken from me. After long search, I found that she was in the possession of the governor of Sevasir; who regardless of her miseries, or the prepossession of her heart, cruelly continued to insult her with the of­fer of his love."—"Inhuman wretch!" interrupted the king: "but proceed."—This ejaculation gave Solyman new hopes, and he continued his relation.

"Walking one evening by the gardens of the fort, I discovered her on a terrace at a small distance. She was so much surprised by the suddenness of my ap­pearance, that she fainted. Being unable to enter the gardens, in my distress I cried for help; and my cries alarming the guard, I was seized. That night I was confined in a dungeon of the castle; but early the next morning hearing the shrieks of a female voice, which I either knew or fear imagined to be that of my love, rage and terror gave me more than natural strength, and I burst open the door of my prison. I was unarmed; but, fortunately, a dagger lying in my way, I snatched it up, and flew to the garden from whence the voice proceeded. There I beheld the dear object of my affections trembling in the em­braces of the tyrant: at the sight of me, he called a­loud to his guards, cowardly refusing the offer I gave him of defending himself against my dagger; nay, [Page 57] he meanly begged his life, and offered me, on that condition liberty for myself and the lady; but the guards immediately coming up, he beckoned to them to seize me: I found time, however, to thrust my dagger into his base heart, thus the villain perished." —"And justice said the king directed your arm."

"O prince!" continued Solyman, I am still miser­able. I have reason to believe, that some of your of­ficers will detain the lady, as a prize taken in the cas­tle of Sevasir."—"No officer of mine," replied the king, "shall be suffered to detain her: let me know her name, and she shall be immediately restored to you."—"Her name," said Solyman, "is Almena."

The king appeared disturbed, and walked backward and forward for some moments, in the utmost confu­sion. He knew, that Almena was the lady whom he had selected from the captives; and he had the most ardent affection for her. In a few moments he with­drew, and commanded Solyman to attend him the following day.

CHAP. XXIII.

THE heart of the king was, in the mean time distracted by different passions; urged by the most powerful love to detain Almena, and dissuaded from that by truth, humanity, and shame. "Am I," said he, "possessed of a throne, and shall I have no more power to indulge my wishes, than the peasant of the field! what is the worth or the end of abso­lute power, if kings must tamely sacrafice their incli­nations, to the creatures they were born to command! Shall I give up such beauty as that of Almena! a beauty that has smitten my heart, and inspired me with such tenderness of affection as I never yet felt for woman! But Almena was Solyman's!—It might be so; but she is now mine. Possession goes from [Page 58] one to another, according to the laws of nation; and, by those laws, Almena is mine."

"Why then do I feel these uneasy sensations, as much at the thoughts of keeping, as of parting with her! the laws of nature and truth create them. The laws of nations ought always to be founded on these; and these suggest to me, that to keep Almena, would be most injurious and inhuman. Shall I, who have condemned that in another, as a crime which deserved the punishment of death, commit the very same my­self! what a detestable hypocrite should I appear! Shall I, who promised the lover that none of my offi­cers should deprive him of Almena; shall I degrade the king by doing what I would have punished in a subject? I love Almena, and should be exquisitely happy in the enjoyment of her; but shall I, therefore, make her miserable! How should I ever partake of happiness, if the object of my affections lived with me in sullen discontent, or inconsolable sorrow? Base and unworthy of the heart of man, must be that love, which would purchase its gratification by the misery of its object! The heart of Almena is Soly­man's, and so shall be her person: painful is the alter­native; but truth, and honor, and virtue must pre­vail!"

Thus the generous king of Kanara overcame the efforts of importunate desire, by the force of virtue and reason; and nobly scorned to avail himself of his power against an unhappy man, who had been long persecuted by misfortune, and distressed in his love.

The hour came at which he had ordered Solyman to attend him. The king received him with a conde­scending smile; and without the least appearance of uneasiness or dissatisfaction in his countenance, desired him not to be apprehensive about Almena, for that he should shortly be put in possession of her.

Having thus spoken, he went immediately to her apartment, and gently taking her hand, "Most beau­tiful of the daughters of India," said he, "cease [Page 59] your sorrows! I am not come to offer you my love; but to recommend to you another lover, who possibly may be happier in your favor than I could ever hope to be: he is now in the palace; and if you will give me leave, I will in [...]oduce him to you."—"My heart." said Almena, "has been so much accustomed to new distresses, that it is not now shocked by their frequen­cy: but if you have any pity for me, suffer me to be­wail my miseries in solitude. Not to be interrupted in my sorrows, is all I ask; and that is not, surely, too much for you to grant." The king answered with a smile, "If I am not to be happy in your love, I am determined that none but the person whom I am a­bout to introduce to you, shall be so;" and hastily quitting the appartment, returned with Solyman. The lovers flew to each others arms; "My Solyman!" —"My Almena!" In a few moments being recol­lected, they threw themselves at the feet of the king; and Solyman, as well as the transports of his heart would give him leave, expressed his gratitude: "Gen­erous prince," said he, "the thanks of Solyman are not worth your acceptance. But you will not be without a reward: yours shall be the supreme pleas­ure of conscious goodness; yours shall be the care of Eternal Providence, and the prayers and blessings of Solyman and Almena!"

In the gratitude of his heart, Solyman offered the king his assistance in the prosecution of the war with the Sundians; but he humanely refused his offer; telling him that love and war were no allies; that his sufferings had already been too many and too great; and that neither he should be exposed to danger, nor Almena to fear, on his account. He moreover told them, that if they were inclined to return by sea to the valley of Irwan, they should be attended by an ar­med vessel, to secure them from the assaults of an en­emy. But this obliging offer they declined; Soly­man was unwilling any more to risque that which was dearer than life; and Almena yet trembled at [Page 60] the thoughts of the Sundian pirate. They, therefore, notwithstanding the length and tediousness of the way, determined to go by land; and having taken leave of the king, who supplied them with every ne­cessary, and lent them his own beasts and attendants, they set their faces towards Delhi.

CHAP. XXIV.

THEIR road was through a mountainous country, troublesome to the traveller; little cultiva­ted by the labors, or enlivened by the habitations of men. But what are the difficulties which love and hope cannot surmount! they despise the threats of danger, and the toils of labor; and proceed with res­olution through those perplexities, which by other eyes are beheld with despair. The travellers thus an­imated, and looking forward to those delightful scenes of rest, those days of rural ease and happiness which they should enjoy in the valley of Irwan, passed over the rugged mountains that opposed their way, with­out the least sense of weariness or fear.

After travelling many days, without any accident or delay, more than the necessary refreshment of na­ture required, they arrived at Delhi. At the sight of her native place, Almena shed a tear of joy, and the lovers embraced each other with more than com­mon tenderness: so much is there in the power of ex­ternal circumstances, to improve and exalt the pleas­ures of the mind. Almena always loved her Soly­man with the most tender affection; but she loved him at Delhi, more than in any other place: delight is inseparable from the idea of those scenes, where we have passed the happy hours of childhood; and though, when in a maturity of life we revisit our na­tive countries, we cannot enjoy that innocent thought­less chearfulness, of which we still retain some notion; [Page 61] yet we are delighted with the remembrance of it, and those scenes are always dear to us.

Almena forgot not to visit her village, and the peo­ple whom she called her own. The poor inhabitants, at the sight of their benefactress, wept with pleasure; and she did not leave them without giving them new exhortations to their duty, and new instances of her beneficence. Indeed, in all generous acts she now doubled her assiduities: for she concluded, that, on account of her great and singular obligations to Providence, she ought in gratitude to have a superior portion of virtue.

After a short stay at Delhi, Solyman and Almena renewed their journey, and set forward to Ispahan. This route was longer; but it was more easy, and less exposed to robbers, than that which led to the Persian Gulf. When they arrived at Ispahan, Solyman had the pleasure to find his friend the merchant, who was still detained by business in that city. He easily made his apology for not accepting, as he had proposed, his kind offer of a passage into Europe, by introduc­ing him to Almena. He related to him their vari­ous interesting adventures, to which he listened with the eager curiosity and concern of a friend, acknowl­edging all along the hand of Providence in their pres­ervation. For the amiable and accomplished Alme­na, he felt great esteem: her pathetic descriptions, and her just and natural observations, were extremely entertaining and affecting. But he was most charm­ed with the character of the king of Kanara; and requested Almena to relate every particular of his behavior.

"When I first beheld him" said she "I perceived in his countenance a noble affability and openness, which seemed to speak a great and generous mind. This gave me some pleasure; as I might have hopes from his compassion, should it be my fate to be selected by him: such you know it was.—When I was con­ducted into an apartment of the palace, he waited on [Page 62] me with the most affable politeness; and seeing me in tears, he gently took my hand, and spoke to the following effect. "Be not distressed, fair Almena! Though you are in the power of a prince, you are not in the hands of a tyrant. If time and the assi­duities of tenderness may prevail on you to return my love, I shall be happy; if not, you shall never be made miserable by cruelty or by violence." "Con­sistent with this declaration, was his whole conduct to me, during the time I was in his possession. How I regained my liberty, you have already heard."

"To the character which you have already receiv­ed of the Kanarian prince," said Solyman to the mer­chant, "I will add a poetical portrait, which possibly may not be disagreeable to you: my gratitude for his favors, and my admiration of his virtues, induced me to attempt it."

[Page 63]"Your verses," said the merchant, "are very a­greeable to me; for they are justly applicable to a prince whom every merchant in Great Britain has the greatest reason to respect; and who is beloved by his subjects, as much as a father by his children: He too is young, as is the king of Kanara. But I have lately had the pleasure to hear of his marriage; and at the same time I received, from a literary corres­pondent, an ode on the occasion; which as you have a poetical taste, I shall make no scruple to offer you."

"The ode you have obliged me with," said Soly­man, "though I do not very well understand it, gives me some idea of the enthusiasm and harmony of the English poetry. But I am less pleased with the pro­ductions of art in your country, than the affectionate duty which the people show to their king; for that is the basis of civil happiness; and indeed every human prince, who has the interest of his subjects at heart, will always reign in their affections.

But now, my friend, if you are not too much ta­ken up with your concerns at Ispahan, will you be prevailed on to visit the valley of Irwan? As you are a lover of nature, and of the muses, you will there meet with much to entertain you; at least, you [Page 66] will find a retreat from the fatigues of business, and the plagues of popularity. Almena too joins in this request, and will be glad of so entertaining a friend in the first stages of her retirement."

The merchant accepted the invitation, and they left Ispahan the following day. He was desirous to hear from Almena the story of her captivity, and took the first opportunity to request it: "I have heard," said he, "from Solyman, the greatest part of your adven­tures; but I have not been informed how you passed that unhappy period of time, from your being taken by the Sundians, to your departure from the castle at Sevasir."

"You call back memory, Sir," said Almena, "to the days of misery: but as I can, at this distance, look upon them without terror, I will endeavor to des­cribe them to you.

"When I was first taken by the Sundians, my dis­traction was so great, that I retain no Idea of what passed, till the captain of the vessel conveyed me on shore to the castle of Sevasir and presented me, terri­fied and almost frantic as I was, to the detested gov­ernor; who as I have been since informed, received such kind of acknowledgments from the seamen, for protecting them in their illegal and piratical captures.

"The wretch, as well as I remember, seemed total­ly insensible to my misery; and, with a smile upon his countenance, ordered his domestics to convey me to my apartments. These, indeed, wanted neither el­egance nor convenience; but I despised the one, and neglected the other. The first evening I passed in the most painful anguish for the loss of Solyman, and the most dreadful apprehensions of injurious treatment from the governor. The women that were about me, seemed the wretched remains of ruined innocence, who had first been victims to the desires of the tyrant, and afterwards made his slaves. Dreadful was the scene I had before me! Some of these unhappy crea­tures seemed to pity me, and to be concerned for my [Page 67] approaching misfortunes; while others, who with their virtue had lost their humanity, looked upon me with a careless scorn; pleased, I fear, with the tho't, that they should see one woman more, as miserable and as despicable as themselves.

"Early the next morning, the governor came into my apartment; and casting his eyes upon the bed on which I had not reposed, "it seems, madam," said he, with a scornful smile, "that you approve not of your lodgings; but a little time, it is to be presumed, will reconcile you to us." These morning visits he con­stantly paid me; and as he always found me in sul­len sorrow, he behaved much in the same manner. At last, he changed his address; seemed to pity me; asked me for the story of my misfortunes; and I be­lieve wept, when he heard it; but as I was aware of the hypocrite, I was equally regardless of his pity, as I had been of his scorn: and still continued to look upon him, with the same forbidding aversion and dis­dain.

"Thus passed my days in this confinement: but they would have been more intolerable, had I not found a harp in my apartments, which probably had been left there by some unhappy lady, who had pos­sessed them before me. With this instrument I amus­ed myself for many a melancholy hour, which must otherwise have passed away in the most miserable lan­guor, I also composed a song, suitable to my state of mind and misfortune; which I adapted to my harp, and which, I think, was as follows:

"Such, Sir, was my life in the castle of Sevasir; which passed like the waters of Zenderoud, that in some pieces are tortured by rocks and precipices, and in others languish in dull stagnation."

CHAP. XXV.

THE travellers had now proceeded on their way to the valley of Irwan, as far as the village of Abdat; where Solyman proposed that they should visit the lovers who owed their preservation to him. Of this he was the more desirous; as he had never seen them, since he had first recommended them to the protection of his father; but the pleasure he proposed to him­self from this visit, arose not from a desire of being flattered with their acknowledgments, but of behold­ing and enjoying their happiness.

The lovers received their benefactor, with the great­est ardor of gratitude; but at the same time with that delicacy, which proved it to be sincere: they were not loud in their acknowledgments, nor officious in their compliments; but yet their attention to their guest, shewed how much they were delighted with this opportunity of expressing their respect for Soly­man. The travellers, in the mean time, were not less pleased to behold the peculiar happiness of the lovers, who seemed to have but one heart, and one inclina­tion. Solyman and Almena beheld, in them, a pic­ture of themselves; and felt more sensibly their own felicity, when they had before them so pleasing an image of it.

The merchant too was delighted with this scene of conjugal happiness. "Such," said he to Solyman, "are the genuine fruits of those alliances, which are made by love. When I behold them, I blush for my­self and for my countrymen; for love, genuine love, as if it were no longer a passion essential to human nature, is looked upon as an Utopian idea, existing on­ly in the imagination of poets and enthusiasts: hence, every tendency to it is ridiculed as romantic, and modern marriages are only contracts of convenience. A British lady is exposed to sale; and if she has a good person, as well as an ample fortune she hopes by [Page 70] that addition only to fetch a higher price, and make a better market. This, however, it must be owned, is not the foible of the women only, the men are equally, if not more mercenary; and have if possi­ble, more selfish views in their marriages; so that, in this case, cunning is only opposed to cunning. All this proceeds from that mischievous opinion, which measures happiness by the possessions of fortune. Hence, that mutual coldness and indifference, which both experience before the marriage torch is extinct: from new acquisitions of wealth, each expects new degrees of felicity, and both are disappointed; when they find themselves mistaken, destitute of that affec­tionate tenderness which endears the married state, they look upon each other as the cause of discontent, and disgust and aversion succeed. Thus they sacrifice to vanity, and reap the fruits of it!"

From the village of Abdat, Solyman and Almena, with their friend the merchant, proceeded to the val­ley of Irwan, where they found the aged Ardavan still living, and enjoying all the faculties of nature. The benevolent sage rejoiced to receive his son, not only safe from the dangers of travel, but happy in the enjoyment of his love; and with a heart full of ten­derness, he thus conferred on both, his paternal bene­diction:

"Children of the heart, and comfort of the years of Ardavan! Solyman shall be as the sun, when he cometh from the chambers of the east, when he spread­eth his glories over the waves of Ganges; my son shall be as the Euphrates, the river of plenty, whose waves are the delight of a thousand meadows; he shall be like the roe upon the mountains, that danceth in the vigor of his heart, and saith to the fence of the husbandman, "What art thou?" His head shall be crowned with the rays of Mithra; because his heart melted with compassion, and because his hand was stretched forth to relieve the children of affliction!

[Page 71]"Almena is fairer than the women of the east; she is more virtuous than the daughters of men: love dwelleth in her heart, and benevolence sitteth in her eye. She shall be like the tree that droppeth balm up­on the flowers of Irwan; as the star of the evening reflected from the river. Her countenance shall be pleasant as the calm surface of the ocean, when the gilded clouds of evening blaze upon its bosom: she shall be as the moon, when she lendeth her rays to the traveller, and sheddeth a mild light over the groves and vallies. Her voice shall be as the voice of the turtle, calling to her mate in the thickets of the for­est. Like the stars that surround the chariot of the moon, shall be the children of Almena; beautiful as the plants of the cedar, and sprightly as the fawns upon the mountains!"

Thus blessed by the voice of Ardavan, and happy in themselves, the virtuous Solyman and Almena live in the valley of Irwan! Each day is endeared by the delights of tender love; and the remembrance of past distresses is attended only with the pleasing sensa­tions of gratitude to that Being, whose providence is over all his works.