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THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS.

Ficta, voluptatis cauſâ, ſint proxima veris.

By the EDITOR of CHRYSAL.

VOLUME II.

LONDON: Printed for T. BECKET, Corner of the Adelphi, in the Strand. MDCCLXXIV.

CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

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BOOK THE FIRST.
SECTION I.
SELIM continues his narrative. The Byrſans invade the country of the Coptes. Their conduct; and the event of the invaſion, Page 1
SECT. II.
The Byrſans continue to act in character. Their conduct retorted upon themſelves. Fall of the Byrſan ſtate, Page 5
SECT. III.
Himilco reſumes the narrative of his own adventures. He meets a grateful return for an act of beneficence, Page 11
SECT. IV.
Himilco, on the recovery of his ſenſes, finds himſelf a priſoner among the Coptes. Conduct of a good prieſt. Himilco learns the ruin of his country, and reſolves to attempt retrieving it, Page 17
SECT. V.
Himilco applies to the Byrſan colonies for aſſiſtance. They reject his application. He gives up all hope of relieving his country, and repairs to his friend at Cairo, Page 23
SECT. VI.
Himilco's friend diſapproves of his deſign of retiring from the world. Himilco ſees a viſion, which ſuggeſts new deſigns, Page 27
SECT. VII.
Himilco reviſits his native country; but to no effect. He is obliged to contract his ſcheme. He viſits the good prieſt; and forms new connections, Page 33
SECT. VIII.
Himilco returns to his friend at Cairo. He finds himſelf under a neceſſity of altering his ſcheme. He travels into the deſarts of Africa, where he fixes his habitation. Unhappy concluſion of his hiſtory, Page 39
SECT. IX.
Selim reſumes the hiſtory of his own life. He makes a propoſal to Himilco; which Himilco agrees to, under certain conditions. Selim departs from the habitation of Himilco, Page 47
SECT. X.
Selim, in traverſing the deſarts of Africa, meets with a people of an uncommon kind. Their mutual fears of each other. He repels a formidable attack, Page 52
SECT. XI.
Selim enters into amity with the little people. Deſcription of a ſubterraneous city, Page 58
SECT. XII.
Manners of the little people. Selim is convinced of a popular error. He purſues his journey; and joins a caravan, which is travelling to Mecca, Page 65
BOOK THE SECOND.
SECTION I.
Selim meets with a Santone. The conduct of the Santone fills him with many doubts. The Santone enters into confidence with him, 77
SECT. II.
The Santone opens to Selim ſome of the myſteries of ſpiritual ambition. Intereſting remarks on religious exerciſes. The Santone makes an extraordinary propoſal to Selim, 83
SECT. III.
Selim leaves the caravan. He arrives at Bagdat, where he is met by an old acquaintance. Selim becomes a favourite of the Khaliff, 93
SECT. IV.
Selim is made grand viſier. He reſumes his former ſcheme of moral reformation. He meets an unexpected obſtacle. Curious pretenſions to preferment. Selim determines to leave Bagdat. He enters into the military life, 101
SECT. V.
Selim quits the ſervice of the Khaliff; and riſes to high command in that of Aladdin. Selim is diſgraced for an uncommon reaſon, 109
SECT. VI.
Selim returns to the habitation of his father. He is diſappointed in his hope of finding him. He proceeds to ſeek his father; is forced into the ſervice of Mohammed; and taken captive by Temugin, 117
SECT. VII.
Temugin ſhews favour to Selim. Selim performs important ſervice to Temugin, 124
SECT. VIII.
Selim makes a dangerous requeſt. Generoſity of Temugin. An affecting conteſt of an uncommon kind, 130
SECT. IX.
Selim prevents an attempt to cover one crime, by committing another. An uncommon inſtance of a king's regard for his people, 136
SECT. X.
A rebellion traced to a cauſe, not unuſual, 142
SECT. XI.
Selim executes a ſignal inſtance of juſtice. His conduct is approved by Temugin. Selim advances in the favour of Temugin, who gives him the name of Togrul, 147
BOOK THE THIRD.
SECTION I.
Togrul is unhappy in the midſt of happineſs. Temugin entruſts him with a delicate charge. Hiſtory of a Guebre, 153
SECT. II.
The hiſtory of a Guebre continued. A common cauſe involves the Guebre, and his wife, in affecting diſtreſs, 164
SECT. III.
Continuation of the hiſtory of a Guebre. A ſignal inſtance of juſtice executed by an uncommon agent. Affecting concluſion of the hiſtory of a Guebre, 170
SECT. IV.
An extraordinary vindication of an extraordinary cuſtom, 175
SECT. V.
Togrul arrives at Bagdat. He eſcapes an imminent danger; and retorts a baſe deſign on its author, 180
SECT. VI.
Togrul ſeizes the viſier of the Khaliff. Interview between Selim and the Khaliff. The Khaliff reſigns his ſceptre to Togrul, who reſtores it, in the name of Temugin, 188
SECT. VII.
Togrul diſcovers himſelf to the Khaliff. Pleaſing explanations. Togrul declines an offer too ſeldom declined, 196
SECT. VIII.
Togrul finds a friend in an unexpected ſituation. An uncommon inſtance of loyalty. An affecting interview ended more affectingly, 200
SECT. IX.
Togrul's reaſon for giving the Khaliff a good peace approved by Temugin, 208
SECT. X.
More happineſs makes Togrul more unhappy, 213
SECT. XI.
Togrul meets temptation, to which he is unequal, 215
SECT. XII.
Togrul finds, and reſolves to correct his fault. He is again led into danger by officious zeal, 223
SECT. XIII.
Togrul relapſes. An unlooked for diſcovery ſaves him, on the brink of ruin, 228
SECT. XIV.
Togrul repairs his faults. Generoſity of Temugin. He refuſes Togrul permiſſion to quit his ſervice, 233
BOOK THE FOURTH.
SECTION I.
Temugin gives Togrul a new proof of his confidence. Togrul invades the kingdom of Betlis, and brings the king to a battle, 239
SECT. II.
Combat between Togrul and the king of Betlis. The king is ſaved by an affecting interpoſition. Abudah makes a truce between the two armies, 245
SECT. III.
Abudah diſcovers to Togrul that he is ſon to the king of Betlis. Interview between Togrul and his father. They agree upon terms of peace, 250
SECT. IV.
Abudah acquaints Togrul with the circumſtances of his birth; and the hiſtory of his family, 255
SECT. V.
Abudah preſents Togrul, by his own name of Arſaces, to Aſtyages, his father. Arſaces and Aſtyages repair to Temugin, 260
SECT. VI.
Arſaces acquaints Temugin with the ſucceſs of his expedition; and preſents Aſtyages to him. Temugin, overcome by the paſſionate interceſſion of Arſaces, confirms the peace; and receives Aſtyages to his friendſhip, 264
SECT. VII.
Aſtyages and Arſaces return to Betlis. Aſtyages approves of Arſaces's attachment to the daughter of Himilco. Arſaces and Abudah repair to Himilco in the deſart. Arſaces weds Arpaſia. The concluſion, 271

THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS. BOOK THE FIRST.

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SECTION I.

'THE lure of private advantage,' (reſumed the captive, the next evening, in the words of Himilco) ‘which had been held up to the Byrſans, to draw them into the war, had fired them with ſuch an univerſal phrenzy, that their army might almoſt have been ſaid to contain the whole nation. People of both ſexes, of every age, and rank, [2] crowded as to a feſtival, in all the pomp and parade of affluence and luxury, to gratify curioſity and ſhare in the ſpoil; for ſo confident were they of ſucceſs, that they even carried chains to bind their enemies, whom they already conſidered as captives.’

It was impoſſible to make the impatience of ſuch a multitude ſubmit to the neceſſary delays of diſcipline, or obſerve military order, in their march againſt a foe, whom they deſpiſed. They broke, like a deluge, into the country of the Coptes, who, having lived in the ſecurity of innocence and peace, were unprepared to reſiſt ſuch an attack, and ravaged it with all the wanton inſolence and cruelties of conqueſt.

But though the Coptes were unable to face ſuch numbers in the field, they loſt not that courage with which honeſt indignation always fires a virtuous breaſt. [3] They removed their families into places of preſent ſafety, among the inacceſſible faſtneſſes of the mountains; and then dividing themſelves into ſeparate bodies, kept out of the ſight of their enemies, till they ſhould find an opportunity for attacking them with that advantage which their manner of proceeding promiſed.

This conduct, which ſhould have put the Byrſans on their guard, only made them more confident and ſecure. They attributed it to fear; and ſpreading themſelves over the country, as if they had no enemy to apprehend, ſoon gave the Coptes that opportunity for which they watched; who falling upon them, from every quarter, at the ſame time, with the irreſiſtible fury of men animated by the juſtice of their cauſe, and fighting for all they held dear, overthrew them with ſuch a ſlaughter, that ſcarcely [4] enough eſcaped to bear home the melancholy tidings of their defeat.

It is impoſſible to deſcribe the effects of this misfortune upon the minds of the Byrſans. Their dejection now exceeded their late confidence, and ſhewed, in the ſtrongeſt light, the difference between true fortitude, inſpired by virtue, and the vain preſumption of arrogance; as their fate, ſoon after, did that between power, founded on the ſolid baſis of internal ſtrength, and the falſe ſemblance of it, which is reflected by wealth and preſent proſperity.

Foſtered in the lap of luxury, the wordy warriours, whoſe valour had been ſo loud in the council, whoſe boaſting had inflamed the multitude to madneſs, now ſhuddered at the apprehenſion of having thoſe evils, which they had wantonly cauſed to be inflicted on their unoffending neighbours, retorted on [5] themſelves; and baſely fled behind their ſovereign for ſhelter, leaving him to ſtruggle with the ſtorm, which they had raiſed againſt his principles and opinion.

True nobleneſs of ſoul always ſhines brighteſt in adverſity. The voice of danger awoke the virtues of Amilcar, who then ſat upon the throne of Narbal, and proved the blood of his illuſtrious race. He ſummoned the poor remains of his people, and without deſcending to fruitleſs accuſations, ordered to arms every one able to take the field, propoſing to lead them directly againſt the enemy, if happily he might ſurprize them in the ſecurity of their late victory; and by one brave effort, wipe off the diſhonour they had ſuffered.

SECTION II.

PASSION, when broken looſe from the rule of reaſon, is ever in extreams. Fear had now taken ſuch abſolute poſſeſſion [6] of the Byrſans, that they trembled at the very thought of a war, with thoſe whom they ſo lately had deſpiſed; and ſhutting their ears to the name of honour, by their infatuated cowardice, diſabled their ſovereign from attempting to deliver them from the diſtreſs into which they had been plunged by their own raſhneſs. Deaf to his exhortations, and in deſpite of his authority, they ſent an embaſſy to beg for peace, in the moſt abject terms; but they were now made to feel, in their turn, the inſolence of power.

The leaders of the Coptick nation, no longer thinking themſelves under the neceſſity of preſerving any meaſures with them, in order to confirm the confidence and ſharpen the animoſity of their own people, gave audience to the ambaſſadors, in the preſence of the whole army; and having received their humiliations with contempt, replied to their ſupplications [7] for peace, by aggravating every inſult and oppreſſion which they had ever received from them; and enumerating, for they admitted not of aggravation, all the cruelties and outrages which they had committed in their late invaſion; concluding with declaring their reſolution to purſue to the laſt extremity a people, whoſe pride and injuſtice had made them the general enemies of human-kind.

Inſtead of their being rouzed by this menace, to that manly deſperation which often produces ſafety, it only ſunk them deeper in the moſt deſpicable weakneſs of fear. Each looked to the other for that counſel, which he himſelf had neither preſence of mind to give, nor ſpirit to purſue.

They were utterly at a loſs. Their own people were diſperſed at too great a diſtance, in their colonies, to be collected [8] in time for affording them relief; and conſciouſneſs of their former conduct towards thoſe, whom neceſſity had obliged to live in alliance with them, would not permit their placing any confidence in their aſſiſtance.

However, as they had loſt every other hope, they ſent to all the neighbouring nations to implore aid in their diſtreſs; but in vain.

They were anſwered with demands of redreſs for injuries offered in the day of their proſperity; and which would never have been mentioned, had the power, which committed, remained to ſupport them; and ſaw the very people, to whom they had applied for aſſiſtance, prepare to join their enemies, in hope of ſharing in the ſpoil of that wealth, which they had unhappily miſtaken for ſtrength; but now found to be only a lure to tempt ruin.

[9]This aggravated their fears to diſtraction, and made them ſtill an eaſier conqueſt to their enemies, who had now advanced into the boſom of their country, where they returned all the outrages which had been exerciſed upon themſelves before.

The wretched Byrſans, unconnected by the ties of ſocial virtue, uninſpired with the ſacred love of their country, and unſupported by the principles of religion, thought only of ſhifting every one for himſelf, and flying with his darling wealth, (though he knew not whither to direct his flight, nor had time to provide the proper means for it) regardleſs of the commands, the entreaties of their ſovereign, who, glowing with the virtues of his race, conjured them by every motive, juſtly dear to man, to imitate his example, and die with honour; if they could not live with happineſs.

[10]Animated by this divine principle, he put himſelf at the head of his own houſhold, and diſdaining to be attacked in a city, which he had not force to defend, met the enemy in the field, where he ſealed his love to his country with his blood, as became the deſcendant of Narbal.

Here let me drop the veil, nor put humanity to pain, by ſtriving to repreſent ſcenes, in which the unavoidable horrors of war were rendered ſtill more horrible by perſonal animoſity and revenge.

Suffice it to ſay, that ſuch of the wretched people as fell in the way of the conquerors in the firſt heat of their fury, were put to the ſword without reſpect to age or ſex; the city razed to the ground, and the name of Byrſa no longer numbered among nations.

[11]At theſe words grief choaked his utterance. He covered his face, for a few moments; and having paid the tribute of a pious tear to the memory of his country, thus continued his narrative.

SECTION III.

IT was my peculiar fate to be ſpared the pain of beholding theſe ſcenes of devaſtation and cruelty.

As I was riding one day, at ſome diſtance from the Byrſan army, ſoon after our entering the country of the Coptes, I ſaw a town delightfully ſituated, at the entrance of a beautiful valley, wrapped in flames.

Too many ſights, of the ſame kind, making me at no loſs for the cauſe of ſuch a calamity, I haſted directly to the place, to put a ſtop to the outrages of the ſoldiers, and adminiſter [12] what relief I could to the unhappy ſufferers, who were only ſuch as age and infirmity had prevented from retiring with the reſt; and would have beſpoken compaſſion for, from every heart, not hardened againſt the feelings of humanity.

I flew from place to place, wherever the cries of diſtreſs call'd for my aſſiſtance. I commanded! I entreated! and where every other method failed, had recourſe to force to make the ravagers remember they were men.

As I was labouring thus, I met a party of the Byrſans, dragging, by his grey hairs, an aged prieſt, while others goaded him on, with their ſpears, toward a magnificent temple, which they had ſet on fire, and deſigned to throw him into the flames.

[13]Struck with horror at the ſight, I ruſhed among the worſe than brutal wretches, and ſmiting with my ſword one of them, who refuſed to obey my command, reſcued the trembling victim from their cruelty.

As ſoon as he had recovered a little from the ſtupefaction of affright, he threw himſelf at my feet, and regarding me with a look of ineffable expreſſion, the emotions of his heart depriving him of utterance, raiſed his hands and eyes to heaven, to implore its bleſſings on his deliverer.

Melting in ſympathy to his diſtreſs, I raiſed him from the ground; and was going to ſpeak words of comfort to his grief, when a ſudden ſhout drew my attention to other objects.

I turned haſtily; and ſaw the Byrſans flying on every ſide, before a body of the [14] Coptes, who had poured from the neighbouring mountain, with the impetuoſity of a torrent, and bore down every thing they met: I flew to oppoſe them; and ſtrove by my voice and actions to animate the Byrſans, to a reſiſtance, which alone could procure their ſafety.

But all my efforts were in vain. Incumbered with ſpoil, and enfeebled by their own exceſſes, they fell juſt and eaſy victims to the vengeance of their foes, who were exaſperated to ſuch rage by their inhuman ravages, and cruelty, of which every object around preſented them with the moſt horrid inſtances, that they ſlew every Byrſan they met, many of them in the very act of imploring that mercy, which they had ſo lately refuſed to others.

Thoſe, who had immediately followed me, were too few to oppoſe ſuch numbers [15] with ſucceſs: for in the falſe ſecurity into which the retreat of the Coptes had betrayed us, I had wandered that morning to take a view of the country, attended only by ſome of my own domeſtics.

Attached by perſonal regard, no danger could make them deſert me. But valour waſtes itſelf it vain againſt unequal force. They all fell fighting faithfully around me, leaving me alone, and covered with wounds, in the midſt of an hoſt of enemies, enraged to madneſs, and breathing nothing but death.

But ſtill, the natural impulſe of ſelf-preſervation, prompted me to avert the ſtroke of fate, as long as I could; and I was animated by the deſire of dying with honour, after I had loſt every hope of ſafety.

[16]With this view, I collected all my ſtrength, and advanced to ſmite one of the foremoſt of the Coptes, who preſſed upon me, as I ſtood with my back to a pillar, to prevent my being ſurrounded; but weakened by the loſs of blood, which ſtreamed from every part of my body, my ſword flew out of my hand, and I fell at my length upon the ground, deſtitute of every power of further reſiſtance, or defence.

This thought doubled the horrors of a ſituation, from which there appeared no poſſibility of eſcape. I ſaw the ſword lifted to ſtrike, when in the moment which divides life from death, the Coptic prieſt, whom I had juſt before ſaved from the cruelty of the Byrſans, burſt through the croud, and fearleſs of the ſwords, which hung over my head, threw himſelf upon me, and covered my body with his own.

[17]Reſpect to his ſacred character and virtues inſtantly reſtrained their rage; and procured me a ſafety, of which I was long inſenſible, having ſwooned away, quite exhauſted by my loſs of blood, juſt as the good man had enfolded me in his arms.

SECTION IV.

AT the return of reaſon, I found myſelf in a place to which I was a ſtranger. My wounds and weakneſs ſoon recalled to my memory, the ſituation in which I had lately been; but how I had eſcaped, or where I now was, I could not form any conception.

While I was ſtriving to recollect my ſcattered thoughts, the good prieſt entered the chamber, and approaching ſoftly to the bed where I lay, leaned over me, for a few moments, when [18] perceiving that I breathed, he kneeled at my ſide, and prayed to heaven, in the fervency of true piety, for my recovery.

At the firſt ſight of him, I remembered the manner, in which he had ſtept between me and death; as his actions now ſufficiently explained my my ſituation. My ſoul was ſtruck with reverential awe, at ſuch ſublime virtue; and joined in his prayers, without preſuming to interrupt him.

When he had ended, I made an effort to ſpeak, which drew all his attention; but my weakneſs made my words unintelligible. A flaſh of joyful ſurprize enlightened all his face. He raiſed his eyes to heaven, with a rapturous ejaculation of gratitude and praiſe; then leaning over me again, exhorted me tenderly to compoſe my ſelf to reſt; and not hazard a recovery, of which [19] heaven had thus given unexpected hope, by endeavouring to exert a ſtrength above my condition.

I felt the juſtice of what he ſaid; and teſtified by my looks, an aſſent, which I was not able to utter.

I continued in this weak eſtate for many days, every hour of which was diſtinguiſhed by ſome new inſtance of the tenderneſs of my friend, (the name by which he always called me) who never entruſted me for a moment to the care of any other perſon, except one, in whom he knew he could confide.

Nor was his care confined to the recovery of my health. He poured the balm of comfort into my ſoul; and fortified it againſt the evils incident to humanity, by inculcating the duty and benefit of ſubmiſſion to the will of heaven, whoſe ways he proved to be always [20] right, however contrary to the wiſhes, and inſcrutable to the wiſdom of man.

In the courſe of theſe delightful conferences, which he lengthened as my ſtrength encreaſed, I ſometimes diſtantly hinted a deſire to be informed of the progreſs of the war; but he always eluded my curioſity, changing his diſcourſe directly to ſome of the moſt important and affecting points of moral virtue and religion, which he diſcuſſed in a manner, that took off my attention from every other ſubject.

Painful remembrance made me attribute this reſerve, which I ſoon perceived, to a delicacy of diſtreſſing me, with a recital of the ravages of the Byrſans; for infatuated confidence in their numbers, prevented every apprehenſion of diſaſter to them. I therefore deſiſted from my enquiries; and reſolved to wait with patience for a diſcovery, which [21] I dreaded, though for a reaſon moſt contrary to the truth.

Full of this thought, the employment of my mind, in every moment of his abſence, was to find out ſome method of healing the unhappy breach between the two nations, to which I flattered myſelf with an hope, that the humanity, and tenderneſs which I had experienced, would in a great meaſure prepare the way.

The firſt glimpſe of this hope was too pleaſing to be reſiſted. I communicated it immediately, in the fulneſs of my heart, to the good prieſt; urging it as a reaſon for deſiring that the ranſom of my liberty ſhould be fixed; and permiſſion given me to ſend to my own country, where I owned that my rank was not inconſiderable.

[22]This made it impoſſible to conceal the fate of my country from me any longer; nor indeed was it neceſſary, as my recovery was now compleated; and my mind reſtored to its native ſtrength.

The good man, however, opened the black detail gradually, and with all the delicacy, which the nature of it would admit, keeping hope alive to the laſt moment.

I ſhall not attempt to deſcribe what I felt, on finding all my forebodings ſo unhappily fulfilled. A juſt ſenſe of the duty of reſignation alone could have ſaved me from deſpair; as the duty I owed my country determined me to try whether it might not ſtill be poſſible for me to retrieve its affairs; and reſtore it once more to a ſtate of rational proſperity. I owed the attempt, at leaſt, to the blood of Narbal, which flowed in [23] my veins; and whoſe example I had before my eyes.

I departed, therefore, ſecretly from the houſe of my kind preſerver, diſguiſed in the habit of a faquir; and went with an heavy heart to learn the truth, of what I ſcarce dared to doubt.

SECTION V.

THE appearance of ingratitude, which my departing in this manner bore, was moſt painful to me. But it was not to be avoided.

From ſome expreſſions dropped at different times, by my benevolent hoſt, I had reaſon to think that an aſſurance of acquieſcing in the preſent ſtate of my country, would be expected from me, before I ſhould be ſet at liberty, which would obviate my deareſt hopes; beſides, that a regular valediction would [24] have been attended with circumſtances of tenderneſs, of a particular nature, which I doubted my own ability to ſupport.

The ſcenes, which every where preſented themſelves to me, on my entering the country of Byrſa, exceeded my worſt apprehenſions. Deſolation is too ſoft a name, for a country, which but a few moons before, had flouriſhed in all the riches of nature, all the embelliſhments of art; while the few wretched natives, who had eſcaped the ſlaughter, were driven into the moſt inhoſpitable parts of the Coptic mountains, where they were condemned to every ſervile labour, and interdicted even the ſight of their own country, on pain of inſtant death.

Grief gave place to indignation. My ſoul diſdained to think of aught but vengeance. Nor was I at a loſs, by what means to ſeek it. I turned my [25] face directly to our colonies, where I doubted not but a juſt deſcription of the fate of their mother country, would arouſe an effectual reſentment, as I knew their force was amply ſufficient to overpower every reſiſtance, which the enemy could oppoſe to them.

But what was my aſtoniſhment! How was the object of my indignation changed, when I found all my entreaties rejected, all my remonſtrances treated with contempt! They told me that they owned no country, but that which gave them bread. They enumerated the hardſhips, which had driven them from their native home. They blazoned the luxury, the inſolence, and oppreſſion of the Byrſans, in the ſtrongeſt colours; and then aſked me, whether I thought ſuch a people deſerved, that they ſhould hazard their own happineſs to endeavour to recover for them a country, which they had been ſo baſely afraid to defend; as they [26] ſaid, they well knew, that ſhould their endeavours prove ſucceſsful, the Byrſans would inſtantly croud home, from the places whither they had ignominiouſly fled with their wealth, and reſume their former tyranny.

I acknowledged the hand of heaven in the fate of the Byrſans; and ſubmitting to its ſacred will, looked among the nations round for a place of refuge, where I might fulfil the number of my days unknown; for I reſolved never more to mix with the world, or concern myſelf in its ways.

After thinking of many places, without being able to determine my choice, it at length occurred to me, that my friend and fellow-ſufferer in the ſhipwreck, might probably be able to direct me, as he had travelled over the greateſt part of the earth, in his profeſſion of a merchant. I diſpoſed, therefore, of all [27] the property which belonged to me, among thoſe unnatural people; and bidding an eternal adieu to every thing, which had any way been connected with Byrſa, repaired to Cairo.

SECTION VI.

ON my arrival at the houſe of my friend, I found him juſt preparing to go in ſearch of me, the fate of my country, of which he had received the melancholy tidings, having alarmed his regard for my ſafety.

It is impoſſible to expreſs his joy, when he ſaw me. He hung upon my neck for ſome minutes unable to ſpeak, while we mingled the tears of melancholy remembrance and affection.

As ſoon as I had explained to him the immediate occaſion of my coming, ‘My friend,’ ſaid he, ‘it is true, that [28] I know many ſuch places as you ſeek; but I would, by no means, adviſe you to bury yourſelf thus alive.’

Your heart is at preſent ſoured by the misfortunes of your country, and ſickens at the thought of every thing, which may remind you of them; but believe me, it is not in retirement that you muſt expect relief. The ſameneſs of the ſcene will ſoon pall upon you. Deſtitute of other objects, your mind will continually look back to your miſfortunes; ſo that inſtead of flying from melancholy, you will only give yourſelf up an helpleſs prey to it.

Continue therefore here, with me, for a ſeaſon. The multitudes which croud to this city, from all parts of the world, will afford you ample matter for rational ſpeculation; and divert your thoughts from dwelling on the objects, which at preſent give you ſo [29] much pain. The retreat which you want, is from yourſelf; and that can be had only in the buſtle of the world.

I was ſtruck with the juſtice of what he ſaid, though it unhinged the deareſt purpoſe of my heart. I knew not what to determine.

While I fluctuated in this ſtate of uncertainty, I dreamed a dream one night in my bed; and thought I ſaw the ſpirit of my father ſtanding before me. After regarding me for ſome minutes with a look of reprehenſion, "Is it thus," methought he ſaid, ‘that the deſcendant of Narbal ſhould be employed, while his fellow-citizens are groaning under the yoke of ſlavery? If his country is loſt, are there not others to be found? A brave man can make his home any where. The ſun not finding [30] a place of reſt, returns to that from which he begun his courſe.’

On communicating my dream to my friend, he was no leſs ſtruck with it than myſelf. ‘You ſee,’ ſaid he, ‘that heaven interdicts your retiring from the world. Idleneſs is the vice of a weak mind. Man was deſigned for action; and you are expreſsly directed what you are to do. All that remains is to concert meaſures properly. Heaven hath given us reaſon to direct us, and we are made anſwerable, in the ſucceſs of our undertakings, for the uſe we make of it.’

We then entered into conſultation upon the manner in which I ſhould proceed. The explication of my dream was obvious. I reſolved to repair immediately to Byrſa, and collect as many of my wretched countrymen, as I could find willing to ſhare my fortunes.

[31]But the difficulty was how to procure an eſtabliſhment for them, in the place to which I was directed. My friend informed me, from his own ſ [...]d experience, that the very ruins of Carthage, that once proud queen of Africa, were ſcarcely to be traced.

Nor was the face of the country, he ſaid, more changed, than the manners of the inhabitants, who, ignorant of every civil art, every ſocial and moral virtue, lived in a ſtate of war with humanity itſelf; plundering ind [...]ſcriminately all, who had the misfortune to fall into their hands, and treating them with the moſt ſavage cruelty, only becauſe in their power.

Diſcouraging as this repreſentation was, I was not to be deterred by it, from that which I held my duty. I reſolved to make the attempt, and ſubmit the event to heaven, which could [32] never want means to effect its own deſigns.

My friend, who had no other view but my advantage, did not oppoſe a reſolution, the motive of which he could not controvert. ‘I have fulfilled one part of the duty of a friend,’ ſaid he, ‘by ſhewing the difficulty of what you are about to undertake. I will now fulfil the other, by aſſiſting you in your undertaking. The wealth, which I ſaved by your means, I will devote to your ſervice. Though advanced in age, I feel none of its infirmities. My ſpirit is good, and my health vigorous.’

‘While you, therefore, go to collect your people, I will make the neceſſary preparations for conveying them in an happy hour, to the place of their deſtination. Direct them to come hither ſeparately, to avoid giving any alarm; and leave the reſt to my care.’

SECTION VII.

[33]

I ONCE more aſſumed the habit of a faquir, under the diſguiſe of which I eluded the jealous vigilance of the Coptes, while I traverſed the country of Byrſa, and all the neighbouring mountains, whither the wretched natives had been baniſhed by them.

But what was my aſtoniſhment! How did my heart ſwell with indignant grief, when I found all my endeavours to awake them to a ſenſe of virtue, and pious confidence in heaven, of no effect. Their ſpirit was utterly broken. They ſunk under their misfortunes; and preferred an indolent life, in the moſt abject ſtate of ſlavery, to any proſpect the attainment of which was to be attended with difficulty and danger.

[34]Such a degeneracy weaned my ſoul from them. I left them to the fate they deſerved; and directing the few ſurvivors of my own domeſtics and dependants, in whom the example of my father had preſerved ſome remains of virtue, to meet me at the habitation of my friend in Cairo, I yielded to the impulſe of a tenderneſs, but badly ſuited to my ſituation, while I went to pay the debt of gratitude to the Coptic prieſt, who had in ſo generous a manner preſerved my life.

I have ſaid, that he had never entruſted the care of my recovery to any, but himſelf and one perſon more. O, my ſon! that perſon was his only daughter; the moſt beautiful of her ſex; but beauty was her loweſt praiſe. She it was, who watched over me, in the abſence of her father, and ſweetened the tendereſt offices of humanity, by the manner in which ſhe performed them.

[35]It was impoſſible not to have a ſenſe of gratitude for ſuch obligation; and gratitude between the ſexes always leads to love.

Nor did I attempt to check the advances of this tender paſſion. I was in every reſpect diſengaged; and my rank in my own country, I thought, would make my alliance an advantage to any of the Coptes; for, alas! I knew not then that I had no country.

As this pleaſing hope accelerated my recovery, it may naturally be judged, what I felt on finding the foundation of it overturned by the ruin of the Byrſan ſtate. I ſtrove to repreſs it, but in vain. It had taken too deep root in my heart, to be ever expelled.

I had before concealed my paſſion from motives of delicacy; and I now continued my reſerve from pride. I had [36] flattered myſelf, that after the eſtabliſhment of peace, the propoſal would be received with pleaſure; but as that event was become impoſſible, I thought it would only look like adding to a debt, which I was unable to pay; and this was the chief reaſon of my departing ſecretly from the houſe of her father. I could not truſt my heart in ſuch a conflict.

When I arrived near the manſion of my benefactor, I waited in a grove, whither I knew he repaired every morning to perform his devotions.

I muſt not attempt to deſcribe our meeting. After ſome moments of extatic ſilence, I anſwered the enquiries of his regard, with a candid account of every thing which had befallen me, ſince my departure from him. Nor did I conceal the reaſons of my having departed in ſo ſecret a manner.

[37]He liſtened to me with the moſt anxious attention; and as ſoon as I had ended, "My ſon," ſaid he, ‘I approve of your conduct in every inſtance; and admire a virtue, which acquires additional luſtre, from every addition of diſtreſs.’

‘The will of heaven muſt be obeyed. You muſt lead back your few faithful followers, to the ſeat of their anceſtors. Nor ſhall you lead them only. I will accompany your pious ſteps: and my daughter alſo will be eaſily prevailed upon to go with us. She wiſheth not a fate ſeparate from yours; and my ſoul ſo deeply deteſts the atrocious manner, in which this infatuated people have abuſed their ſucceſs, that I will remain no longer among them.’

He then led me to his habitation, where he, the ſame evening, raiſed me ſecretly to the ſummit of human happineſs, [38] by giving me his daughter in marriage; who bluſhingly owned that love had had an equal ſhare with the duties of humanity, in all the tender offices which ſhe had performed for me.

I ſhould have held it a crime to have ſuffered any indulgence to myſelf, however virtuous, to delay my obedience to the divine command, by which I thought myſelf directed in my intended expedition. Nor was the zeal of my father leſs ardent! We left his habitation in the diſguiſe, which had ſo often proved favourable to me; and committing ourſelves to the guidance of heaven, arrived at Cairo in ſafety.

SECTION VIII.

[39]

THE hopes which my ſucceſs thus far had raiſed, were conſiderably lowered by the accounts which I received from my friend on our arrival; who had learned, that the inhabitants of the ancient territories of Carthage were engaged in the moſt furious civil wars, which they waged with ſuch animoſity, that no perſon dared to approach their coaſts; an abſolute ſtranger being the common prey of all; and a connection with any one people expoſing to the outrages of all the reſt.

While we were deliberating what courſe to purſue, amid ſuch difficulties, my father one day aſked the merchant, if the inhabitants, in the interior parts of the country, were equally barbarous with thoſe on the ſea-coaſts; and if not, whether it might not be poſſible [40] for us to travel thither by land, ſo as to avoid the dangers which prevented our going directly to Carthage, and fulfil the intent of my viſion at the ſame time, by ſettling in ſome convenient part of the Carthaginian territories, as no particular place had been expreſsly pointed out in it.

The merchant was ſtruck at this remark; and pauſing for ſome time, anſwered, that he had formerly been acquainted with many who had traverſed thoſe immenſe regions, in the caravans which went in pilgrimage to Mecca; one of whom had informed him, that he had ſeen the ruins of ſeveral magnificent cities in different parts of them, particularly near the confines of Biledulgerid, a country which wanted nothing but cultivation to make it equal to any other under heaven; there not being the leaſt trace of human habitation within the diſtance of many days journey; [41] adding, that he had been ſo ſtruck by the deſcription, that he had enquired particularly where thoſe ruins lay, and was confident he could find his way to them, though the journey was long, and would be attended both with difficulty and danger.

But theſe obſtacles were of no force. The deſcription of the country, and its ſituation, evidently within the territories of Carthage, determined us to direct our ſteps thither, hoping that if it was not immediately the place appointed for us, we might wait there in ſafety till we could find ſome more happy time for proceeding to Carthage.

In conſequence of this reſolution, we ſet out from Cairo, in number about three hundred perſons, carrying every thing neceſſary for the eſtabliſhment of a colony, which the care of my friend had provided in the moſt ample meaſure.

[42]I ſhall not deſcribe a journey, diſtinguiſhed only by the inconveniencies naturally incident to the countries thro' which we paſſed, and in which I bore no farther ſhare, than what regarded myſelf and the wife of my boſom; the conduct of every thing being reſigned to my friend, whoſe experience was our beſt guide and ſafeguard through thoſe inhoſpitable regions.

After a pilgrimage of more than twenty moons, in which we ſuffered every hardſhip which humanity could ſurmount, we arrived at this place. The appearance confeſſedly was far from encouraging; but it was in the country we wiſhed to come to; it was a place where we could hope for reſt.

Our firſt care was to guard againſt the attacks of violence from any of the rovers of thoſe deſarts, who might happen [43] to diſcover our retreat; which the nature of the place enabled us ſoon to effect.

This building being amply capable of containing our whole number, we repaired the injuries it had ſuffered from time or force, and then proceeded to work with ſpirit abroad, as we were certain that we ſlept in ſafety at home.

But alas! this gleam of happineſs was too bright to laſt. My faithful friend, the merchant, had ſo far overſtrained his ſtrength, in our journey, that nature failed, and he died ſoon after our arrival. Our tears bore the trueſt teſtimony of honour to his merits; but his death was only a preſage of greater misfortunes.

We had ſcarcely begun to taſte the firſt fruits of our huſbandry, when a peſtilential wind ſtruck the labourers in [44] the field, who bringing the contagion into our common habitation, it ſoon ran through our whole colony, with ſuch malignancy, that in the ſpace of little more than a moon, there remained alive only my father, my wife, and myſelf.

What we muſt have felt, in ſuch a ſituation, need not be told. The wiſdom of my father, and the conſolations of my wife, were ſcarcely ſufficient to keep my heart from rebelling againſt heaven, by repining at its will; as I looked upon myſelf to be the cauſe of their misfortunes.

The lenient hand of time had but juſt begun to heal my ſoul, when our father ſunk gently into the ſweet ſleep of timely death, leaving his diſconſolate daughter, and her more unhappy huſband, to mourn a loſs, deplorable in itſelf, but ten thouſand fold more to be deplored [45] from the peculiar circumſtances of our ſituation.

Heaven always proportions our ſtrength to the trials which it lays before us. Reſigned to its good pleaſure, my wife and I found inexhauſted comfort in each other for near two hundred moons; when the bite of an adder, as we walked, one unhappy day, on the bank of yonder river, deprived me of the better half of my heart.

This was a ſtroke which I could never have ſupported, had not an infant daughter, the ſole pledge of our loves, called forth every virtue to our mutual aid. I remembered the reciprocal duties of nature, and ſubmitted to ſuffer the miſery of life for her ſake; nor have I ever known another care ſince, but for her happineſs, without once daring to look forward to the dreadful hour of our ſeparation.

[46]From that time my life hath been a perfect blank. I have not even dared to indulge hope, becauſe I have had no rational expectation upon which I can found it. I walk blindfold in the guidance of heaven, without preſuming to conſider whither it may lead me.

Whether the diſappointment of the deſign, which led me to this place, aroſe from my ſhewing a diffidence in the power of heaven, by letting any human obſtacle divert me from going directly to Carthage; or whether my viſion was not merely an illuſion of my own imagination, I pretend not to ſay. I acted for the beſt; and I ſubmit with reverence to the will of heaven.

This, O my ſon! is the ſtory of my misfortunes; from which you may, at leaſt, receive this melancholy conſolation, that you are not the moſt unhappy of mankind.

SECTION IX.

[47]

WHEN the venerable Himilco had thus concluded his narrative, he left me for ſome time, as if to regulate his little oeconomy with his daughter, though I believe his firſt purpoſe was to give vent to the griefs which naturally attended the remembrance of his misfortunes.

My mind, in the mean while, was too ſtrongly impreſſed with events of ſuch ſingularity to attend to any thing elſe. I ran over the various occurrences of his life, and from a compariſon of it with my own, drew this conſolation, that I muſt certainly have been directed by heaven to his habitation for our mutual happineſs.

I waited ſome days, however, before I would mention this thought to Himilco, in order to contemplate more cloſely the [48] diſpoſition of his daughter, before I attached my fate to her's; if I ſhould not rather ſay, that I was prevented by fear of a refuſal, as my heart became every hour more and more enamoured of her.

Himilco at length relieved me from this embarraſſment, by aſking me, one day as we walked among the ruins, in what manner I meant to proceed, in order to accompliſh the purpoſe of heaven, which had been ſo ſtrikingly communicated to me.

It was impoſſible for me to avoid explaining myſelf any longer. I therefore opened all my heart to him, as well as the confuſion, inevitable on ſuch an occaſion, would permit; and waited with the ſtrongeſt anxiety for his anſwer, as the deciſion of my fate.

Regarding me, for ſome moments, with a look of inexpreſſible tenderneſs, ‘I am [49] no ſtranger,’ ſaid he, ‘O my ſon! to your ſentiments in reſpect to my daughter. I have beheld them labouring in your heart from the firſt day of your arrival here; nor was the diſcovery diſpleaſing: on the contrary, I will own, that I have found pleaſure in drawing the ſame concluſion with you, from the wonderful manner in which you have been led, as it were by the hand, to this place, where I had never hoped to ſee the face of man.’

But, O my ſon! you have much to do before you can think of fixing your reſt in any place. The decrees of heaven muſt be fulfilled; and you muſt ſeek the fate it hath appointed for you, which certainly cannot be here, at leaſt as yet.

The clouds, which have obſcured the morning of your life, have evidently ariſen from your violation of filial duty, in leaving your father without his conſent [50] or benediction. You muſt therefore return to him, and receive his forgiveneſs, before you can expect to be happy.

If after that, your ſentiments ſhall remain the ſame as at preſent, and meet his approbation, you will find no oppoſition to your wiſhes, either from my daughter or from me; and heaven will preſerve you for each other, if it approves your union.

Nor is the journey ſo difficult as you may apprehend. The ſeaſon approaches when the caravan paſſes through theſe regions, in pilgrimage to Mecca. To the track of that I will direct you, and with them you will travel in ſafety.

Severely as I felt this delay of my hopes, it was not in my power to make any reply to the reaſons which he gave for it. From that day I lived with him and his [51] daughter in a ſtate of happineſs, reſembling that which the juſt enjoy as they draw near to heaven.

When the day of my departure arrived, his daughter preſented me with a ſcrip, filled with dried fruits of various kinds, as a proviſion for my journey, till I ſhould meet the caravan, the way of which Himilco pointed out to me, by ſuch certain ſigns, which he had learned from his friend, that there could be but little danger of my miſſing it.

I ſhall not attempt to deſcribe my parting with his daughter. In compaſſion to us both, Himilco hurried me away from this diſtreſsful ſcene; and leading me to the extremity of the ruins, diſmiſſed me with a kiſs of peace.

He had before provided me with a faquir's habit, the diſguiſe which had ſo often been favourable to himſelf, in which [52] he concealed ſome gold, and jewels of great price; as alſo a ſabre and a ſhield, for my defence, ſhould it be my misfortune to be met by any of the men or beaſts of prey, which ranged thoſe boundleſs deſarts.

SECTION X.

MY mind was ſo oppreſſed by the recollection of what I had already undergone, ſo terrified by the proſpect before me, that I forgot to attend to the ſigns by which Himilco had directed me to find the track of the caravan; inſomuch, that after travelling for ſeveral days longer than he had preſcribed for my gaining it, I found, to my inexpreſſible unhappineſs, that I had been only involving myſelf deeper in thoſe inexplicable wilds.

This diſcovery ſtruck me with the deepeſt diſmay. My heart died in me for ſome moments. Recollecting myſelf, however, [53] and aſking forgiveneſs of heaven for this involuntary diſtruſt of its protection, I aſcended the neareſt high tree, to try if I could ſee any of the ſigns by which Himilco had marked my way.

Having made the beſt obſervations I could, I reſolved, as the evening began to cloſe apace, to remain where I was for that night, in hope of continuing my journey in an happier hour the next morning.

As I was ſoothing my melancholy in contemplating the ſtruggles between light and darkneſs for the poſſeſſion of the ſky, and comparing them with the viciſſitudes of human life, my ear was ſuddenly ſtruck by the ſound of ſeveral voices, which appeared not to be far diſtant from me; when, turning my eye to the ſide from whence they came, I was ſurpriſed to ſee a number of children, as I thought, running about in ſport, near the tree which I had climbed.

[54]My firſt ſurprize though, ſoon gave place to a greater, when I conſidered the appearance of the creatures I beheld: their bodies, which were totally uncovered, were white as marble, without any ſuffuſion of that redneſs by which the blood diſtinguiſhes animal life. Their height did not exceed two cubits at the moſt, at the ſame time that their agility was utterly irreconcileable with the ſtrength of children of that age.

While I was gazing in aſtoniſhment at beings, whom I immediately concluded to be ſome of thoſe inhabitants of the air of whom ancient tradition relates ſo many wonders, one of them happening to approach my ſtation, his ſenſe of ſmelling gave him the alarm, which he inſtantly communicated to the reſt, who crouding around the tree, ſoon diſcovered me among the branches, when giving a yell of affright, they all ran into a cavern at the foot of a hill cloſe to where I was.

[55]This appearance of fear was ſo inconſiſtent with the notion I had formed of them, that I was utterly at a loſs to what motive I ſhould attribute it. I thought it could not be a ſtratagem to decoy me down, as beings who were lords of the elements, ſuch as I ſuppoſed them to be, could enforce their commands by means impoſſible for me to reſiſt. I therefore concluded that my better angel muſt have interpoſed, though imperceptibly to me, and reſolved to continue where I was, under his protection, till the return of the ſun (whoſe light ſuſpends the power of thoſe inferior ſpirits) ſhould enable me to proceed without fear of moleſtation from them.

But a few moments ſolved the difficulty in a more natural manner. I had ſcarce formed this reſolution, when I ſaw an animal of the moſt hideous aſpect, which had ever ſtruck my ſight, advance toward the place where they had been.

[56]His ſtature was higher than that of the talleſt man, but in every proportion unnaturally ſlender for his height. His tawny ſkin was thinly ſhaded with hair of the ſame colour. His ears hung down, like thoſe of the animal abominated by all nations, while his flat viſage came ſo near the human, as to ſtrike me with ſhame and horror at the reſemblance.

Though I had never ſeen a creature of his kind before, I directly knew him, from deſcription, to be one of thoſe animals which make the middle link between the brute and human natures in the chain of life; ſuch herds of which, Himilco had informed me, inhabited ſeveral parts of thoſe deſarts, as would long ſince have over-run the whole, were it not for the numbers daily deſtroyed in their furious broils with each other. Happening to raiſe his eyes as he drew near the tree, he eſpied me; when chattering his teeth, and [57] grinning a ſmile of horrible delight, he inſtantly prepared to aſcend to me.

As I knew what kind of enemy I had to deal with, I was not under the ſame apprehenſion as before; but determined to ſtand upon my defence. I therefore unſheathed my ſabre, and placing myſelf where the boughs could not impede my arm, the moment he came within my reach, dealt him ſuch a blow, as felled him to the ground, where he lay, roaring and ſtruggling in vain to riſe.

This inſtantly ſhewed me the neceſſity of changing my reſolution, and deſcending from the tree to ſlay him outright, leſt his cries ſhould draw more of his fellows about me than I might be able to reſiſt. Accordingly I ſprung down, and with one ſtroke ſevered his ghaſtly head from his body.

SECTION XI.

[58]

WHILE I was conſidering whether I had better reaſcend the tree, or proceed to ſeek ſome place of greater ſafety for the night, I was ſurpriſed to find myſelf ſurrounded, on a ſudden, by the ſwarm of little beings, who had juſt before fled away as affrighted at the ſight of me.

Though I thought them impaſſive to human force, I naturally put myſelf in a poſture of defence, calling to them at the ſame time, in a menacing tone, to keep at a diſtance from me.

But I ſoon found that my apprehenſions were groundleſs, and that they were really as much afraid of me as I could poſſibly be of them.

On hearing my voice, they ſtarted back, and huddling cloſe together, ſtood evidently [59] fluctuating between fear and joy; their eyes ſparkling with exultation when they looked at the dead ſavage, but ſinking again with diffidence and affright, when turned toward me.

This inſtantly ſuggeſted it to me, that the creature I had ſlain was their enemy; and that their fear of me proceeded from my reſemblance of him. To remove this fear therefore, I went to the dead body, and giving it a ſtroke or two with my ſabre, ſpurned the head from me with a look and geſture of the ſtrongeſt deteſtation.

Such a proof of my enmity to their foe, was received as an expreſs treaty of friendſhip and alliance with them. They directly ſhook off all fear, and running with ſhouts of joy and triumph to the dead body, treated it with every inſult of hatred and revenge, till their rage was glutted; when ſeeming to recollect to whom they were indebted for his death, [60] they turned their attention to me, and one of them, whoſe features, on his nearer approach, I could perceive bore the marks of old age, advanced alone to me, and put himſelf, without apprehenſion, into my power; while the reſt, giving a ſhout of joy, made ſigns to me to go with them into their cavern.

Though by this time I was convinced, that far from being what I had at firſt ſuppoſed, they were in reality only one of thoſe varieties in which nature delights to diſport herſelf (a diminutive ſpecies of the human kind) from whoſe force I had as little reaſon to apprehend danger, as from their preſent intentions; yet ſuch was the power of prepoſſeſſion, ſo difficult to diveſt the mind of the apprehenſions of ignorance, that I felt a kind of horror in complying with that invitation, which ſtronger curioſity would not permit me to refuſe.

[61]This momentary heſitation, however, eſcaped their notice; and they ſhewed the higheſt pleaſure at my compliance. They ſhouted, they danced, and friſked around me all the way to the cavern; where the ſame one, who had advanced to me before, and whom I ſaw the reſt treated with reſpect, beckoned to me to ſtop, while they removed a number of gins and ſharpened ſtones, with which the entrance was beſet in ſuch a manner, as made their retreat inacceſſible to any creature bigger than themſelves, and which was not acquainted alſo with the ſeveral windings between them.

When the paſſage was thus cleared, my guide again made ſigns to me to follow him, ſtooping, though unneceſſarily for himſelf, as he entered, to ſhew me that I muſt ſtoop.

It is impoſſible for words to expreſs my aſtoniſhment when I entered this ſubterraneous [62] city, for ſuch I immediately perceived it to be; the inſide of the hill being entirely ſcooped out, whether by nature or art I could not diſtinguiſh, ſo as to make a cavity capable of containing many times the number of the little community which then inhabited it, and divided into regular compartments proper for the few purpoſes of their ſimple life.

As the ſhades of night had by this time covered the earth, I expected to have found the cavern either involved in darkneſs, or artificially illuminated by fire; but no ſooner had I entered, than I imagined I ſaw another ſky, which emitted a light, pallid indeed and feeble, but ſufficient to diſcover every preſent object to the eye.

In the firſt impulſe of ſurpriſe, I raiſed my hand to what I thought the ſky, when I found that the light was only reflected from a viſcid ſubſtance, which diſtilled [63] through the roof and ſides of the cavern, and retained ſo much of the rays of the ſun, admitted through different crevices in the day, as reflected thus ſerved to ſupply his place during his abſence.

Having replaced their defences, and ſettled all things in a ſtate of ſafety, the whole people, to the number of about forty, of both ſexes and every age, gathered around me as I ſat upon the ground, after the example of my leader; where, having ſatisfied their curioſity by looking at me for ſome time, the greater part withdrew to their domeſtic concerns.

In a little time ſome of them returned, laden with fruits and the fleſh of various birds and other little animals, ſome of which appeared to have been dried, or rather ſodden, in the ſun, but the greater part was raw; and ſetting them before me, my hoſt, as I may call him, eat himſelf, to encourage me to eat.

[64]As I had taken no food from the riſing of the ſun, I followed his example, and eat of the fruits ſufficiently for the ſupport of nature; but I loathed to taſte the fleſh, though he ſtrove to tempt me, by eating with a voracity which ſhewed that he thought it moſt delicious.

Having finiſhed our repaſt, he took me to a ſpring, which iſſued from the ſide of the cave, where I ſlacked my thirſt, and waſhed my feet in a pool filled with the overflowing of the water; after which, obſerving that I was over-powered with ſleep, he led me through various windings to a kind of niche, large enough to ſerve me for an apartment, where he made ſigns to me to lay me down to reſt.

Reſolved to comply with every thing which ſhould be propoſed to me, for that night, I directly obeyed him, letting him ſee me, however, lay my ſword under [65] my head, in ſuch a manner, that it could not be removed without awaking me; a care of which I afterwards found I had no occaſion.

SECTION XII.

MY mind had been ſo over-laboured in the obſervation of theſe ſtrange events, that I ſoon ſunk into a profound ſleep, in which all my cares were buried, till the next morning was far advanced, as I could judge by the light tranſmitted through a crevice in the roof of the cave, near the place where I lay.

Having looked around me, and found every thing in the ſame ſtate as when I went to ſleep, I lay ſtill for ſome time, in expectation of my hoſt's coming to me; till my patience being quite exhauſted, I aroſe, intending to depart without farther delay, in hope of diſentangling myſelf [66] from that part of the wilderneſs before the night ſhould come on.

But I ſoon found my intention defeated. The cavern was cut into ſuch an inexplicable labyrinth, that I wandered through it for a conſiderable time without being able to find the entrance, or even to return to the place where I had ſlept; never, to my utter aſtoniſhment, ſeeing, or even hearing one of the inhabitants.

Loſing, at length, all hope of extricating myſelf, without their aſſiſtance, I called aloud ſeveral times; upon which I immediately heard the buzzing of their voices all around me.

After ſome minutes, my hoſt, as I have called him, came toward me; but with an appearance of diſtruſt and apprehenſion. To remove an impreſſion, therefore, which I ſaw might be diſadvantageous [67] to me, I ſat down upon the ground, and reaching out my hand with a ſmile, the honeſt creature, ſuſpecting no deceit, as he deſigned none, reſumed his former confidence, and ſat down near me with evident pleaſure; whereupon the whole community, who had waited the event of his approach, inſtantly came round me, with the ſame freedom as before.

The light, which now entered through various apertures in the roof of the cavern, enabled me to ſee every thing diſtinctly. I have already deſcribed their ſize, and the peculiar colour of their bodies; in other reſpects they differed not from the ordinary race of men, a ſingularity in one feature excepted, which at firſt view was not ſo pleaſing. This was a prominence in their eyes, from whence probably proceeded their ſeeing ſo much better in a feeble, than a ſtrong light; and may have been the cauſe of their chuſing ſuch a gloomy habitation.

[68]Our amity being thus reſtored, on my making ſigns of a deſire to go out of the cavern, my hoſt inſtantly led me to the entrance, where he ſtopped, being unable to bear the light of the ſun; but gave me to underſtand, that he would wait my return, by ſeating himſelf upon the ground.

Our deſire for any thing is always in proportion to the difficulty which attends the attainment of it. Though I was ſo anxious to continue my journey but a few minutes before, I now no ſooner found myſelf ſo perfectly at my liberty, than that anxiety ceaſed; and I reſolved to indulge my curioſity, by ſtaying a few days among this extraordinary people, to obſerve their cuſtoms and manners, and, if poſſible, acquire ſome knowledge of their language.

Accordingly, as ſoon as I had looked around me for a few minutes, to mark [69] the way I came, I went back to the mouth of the cave, where I found my hoſt, who expreſſed the ſtrongeſt ſatisfaction at my return.

The little community, who now regarded me as one of themſelves, purſued their uſual occupations as if I was not preſent; by which means I ſoon had an opportunity of making all the obſervations I deſired.

I have taken notice before, that their bodies were entirely naked; nor was that cuſtom, however ſtrange to me, in the leaſt to be wondered at, when their ſituation was properly conſidered.

Natural neceſſity for cloathing they had none, as their place of habitation defended them from every inclemency of weather; and to the artificial neceſſity of ſhame, they were ſtrangers, both from their [70] ſecluſion from the reſt of the world; and that it had never entered into their thoughts, that nature had made any parts of their bodies objects of ſhame; and for the ſame reaſon, they performed all the natural functions wherever ſhe ſuggeſted the performance of them.

Their deſires were as limited, as their powers of gratification. They eat fruits, with which the happineſs of the climate ſupplied them, at every ſeaſon; and the fleſh of birds, and thoſe ſmaller animals which we denominate vermin, taken in gins, in the conſtruction of which all the powers of their ingenuity ſeemed to terminate.

Implements of domeſtic oeconomy, they knew not the uſe of. They eat their food without any preparation. They ſtooped to the fountain to drink, and when their appetites were ſatisfied, they laid themſelves down to ſleep, without [71] farther care, for the whole day; the ſtrong light of the ſun ſuſpending their occupations, as much as darkneſs doth thoſe of other men.

I found no great difficulty in acquiring a ſufficient knowledge of their language, which was far from being copious, their ſituation, and ſimplicity of life ſuggeſting but very few ideas: They had names for the things they knew, and expreſſions for the uſes they made of them; and that was nearly its whole extent; for they never combined their ideas, nor employed the faculties of the mind on its own operations.

Of all the paſſions which agitate the heart, and equally conſtitute the happineſs and miſery of man, they ſeemed to have a ſenſe only of fear and love; if I ſhould not add hatred and joy! though no more than conſequences of the former, in the only inſtance, I ever could [72] diſcover of them, their behaviour when I ſlew the ſavage! nor were the effects even of theſe powerful or laſting.

When the entrance of their cavern was defended, in the manner I have deſcribed, they appeared to have no farther fear; and of love, I could never perceive the leaſt reſemblance, except in parental affection for their offspring; ſuch as nature hath imprinted on every animal, for the purpoſe of preſerving the ſpecies: the attachments of friendſhip, or ſecluſive connections between the ſexes, appearing to be utterly unknown to them.

I have obſerved, that they ſeemed to pay reſpect, to the one, who firſt approached, and afterwards attended particularly to me! but I could never perceive that he had any authority or influence over them.

[73]They had given place to his ſuperior intrepidity, and followed his example in that inſtance; and that was all: for of an eſtabliſhed authority or government, there did not appear the fainteſt ſhadow among them, any more than of religion; of the very firſt principles of which, ſuppoſed to be univerſally written in the human heart, they were utterly ignorant; nor when I was able, in ſome manner, to converſe with them, could I ever make them form the leaſt conception of either.

Till their offspring were able to procure their own food, they followed their parents, who fed them; but with this neceſſity the attachment on both ſides ended ſo abſolutely, that I could never trace even the remembrance of it. Every one did juſt what they pleaſed, without reſpect being paid to, or offence taken by any other.

[74]I have ſaid, that they took me, at firſt, for one of thoſe ſavages, with which they live in a continual ſtate of war. But when they were undeceived by my killing their enemy, and they had entered into amity with me, they expreſſed no curioſity to know who I was, or whence I came, my words ſeeming to make impreſſion upon them no longer than upon the air, through which the ſound of them paſſed to their ears.

Nor muſt it be ſuppoſed, that this inattention proceeded from pride. Their ignorance of themſelves was equally great. When I aſked if they were originally of that country, they could not comprehend what I meant; nor did they know whether there was any more of their own ſpecies in the world.

My curioſity ſoon took in the whole of ſuch a narrow ſphere. I left them at the end of ſeven days, convinced of [75] the contemptible ignorance of thoſe torpid viſionaries, who affect to place happineſs in the abſence of paſſion, and being content merely with the ſupport of nature.

A compariſon of ſuch a people with myſelf, gave me a conſequence, in my own eyes, which reſtored the vigor of my mind, and ſupported me through my journey. I ſoon recovered the way-marks pointed out to me by Himilco, from which I had not ſtrayed ſo far, as the dejection of my ſpirits had made me apprehend; and on the ſixth day from my leaving the little people, joined the caravan.

End of the FIRST BOOK.

THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS. BOOK THE SECOND.

[]

SECTION I.

AS the expreſs intent of their journey, continued the captive, was to perform a religious duty, I expected to have met with nothing, but acts of virtue, and ſentiments of piety, among the pilgrims: But a very little time ſhewed me, that the profeſſed intention doth not always govern the actions of man, even in thoſe ſacred matters.

[78]I had not been long with the caravan, when my attention was ſtruck by one of the pilgrims, whoſe demeanour ſhewed a degree of ſanctity ſuperior to all the reſt.

Not content with performing all the rites ordained by his religion, he doubled them in every inſtance. Nature ſeemed unequal to the rigor of his abſtinence. The hours allotted to reſt, he ſpent in prayer: and his exhortations were numbered by the ſteps of his journey.

Such a ſight was balm to my heart. I thought the merits of this one man overbalanced the failings of all the reſt. 'Virtue cannot be a ſhadow,' I reaſoned with myſelf. ‘I have now met the ſubſtance, upon which I may ſafely form my judgment.’

But a moment's reflection damped the pleaſure of this thought. ‘I have been [79] deceived before,’ I continued, ‘and how can I be certain, that I am not ſo now! That I do not ſee this man alſo in a mirrour! I will obſerve him better before I preſume to judge.’

For this purpoſe I attached myſelf more cloſely to him, than I had done before; when the event was far from confirming the opinion I had conceived in his favour. I ſoon thought I ſaw pride ſupply the place of piety, in his moſt exemplary acts of devotion; and virtue made uſe of as a veil to cover vice.

This diſcovery almoſt drove me to deſpair. 'To what purpoſe,' I exclaimed, in the anguiſh of my ſoul, ‘do I ſee life, when I am not able to judge of what I ſee? This man's actions are all good. Why then ſhould I preſume to deduce them from a bad motive? They ſurely are the beſt index of the [80] heart. I have formed a wrong judgment of him, in one inſtance, or the other; and at any rate the former error was the more pardonable. Where there is any uncertainty, a good heart will always judge favourably. Let me therefore hope, that I have deceived myſelf by a falſe ſagacity; and that my firſt opinion of him was right.’ But this hope was of ſhort duration.

The Santone, for by that venerable appellation was he diſtinguiſhed from the other pilgrims in the caravan, was encouraged by the admiration he had raiſed, to form ſtill higher hopes.

Addreſſing himſelf to me one evening, after prayer, 'I have obſerved,' ſaid he, ‘my ſon, with what piety you perform the rites of religion; and how attentively you liſten to the exhortation of my words. Come to my tent, at [81] the third hour of the night, when my private devotions will be finiſhed, that we may confer together upon the ways of heaven.’

Such an invitation was far from being unpleaſing to me, as it muſt give me an opportunity of clearing up the doubts with which my mind was perplexed. I therefore punctually attended the appointment of the Santone, whom I found expecting my arrival.

Placing me beſide him, on his carpet, ‘I have obſerved,’ ſaid he, ‘O my ſon, the regularity of your deportment; and rejoice to have found in ſo young a man, one who is worthy of my friendſhip. I read your heart in your looks; and will open myſelf to you, without fear or reſerve; a confidence, which will not only ſhew you things in their proper colours, but alſo convince you of the [82] advantage of attaching yourſelf to me, and entering into all my views.’

It is impoſſible for me to expreſs, how much I was ſurprized at this addreſs. The manner was as unexpected, as the matter was incomprehenſible; ſuch a familiar ſtyle of diſcourſe being totally different from the abſtracted broken ſentences, in which he was accuſtomed to deliver his ſentiments. However, I was ſufficiently maſter of myſelf to conceal my aſtoniſhment; and the Santone taking my habitual ſilence for aſſent, continued his diſcourſe in theſe words.

SECTION II.

[83]

YOU are doubtleſsly ſurprized at the auſterities, which you daily ſee me practiſe upon myſelf; and think that enthuſiaſm alone can ſupport me through them. But that opinion is ſuperficially drawn. I act from the univerſal principle of human nature, which propoſes the gratification of the ruling paſſion, in every act; however repugnant that act may be to it in appearance.

The object of my wiſhes, the end of all my labours, is power; and that in the moſt extenſive ſenſe. Let warriors ravage nations, and lead the wretched inhabitants in chains, my empire is of a more exalted nature. I ſcorn to hold the body in ſubjection, while the mind is free. Of this empire you are yourſelf a witneſs, and a ſubject. How I have eſtabliſhed it, and to what further [84] purpoſes I mean to improve its influence, are the things which I intend to reveal in confidence to you.

I could contain myſelf no longer. ‘Gracious heaven!’ I exclaimed, ‘Is it poſſible that the religious exerciſes, which ſtrike the world with ſuch reverence, can proceed from any other motive than true piety?’

‘Moderate your zeal, my ſon,’ he returned, with a contemptuous ſmile, ‘and all theſe matters ſhall be explained to you. True piety never ſtrikes the world with reverence, becauſe it is never ſeen by the world. It is an immediate intercourſe between the ſoul and heaven, carried on in acts merely ſpiritual, and which cannot be repreſented to ſenſe. Whenever you ſee a man perform religious exerciſes in public; and eſpecially if he affects to exceed in them, you may ſafely conclude [85] either that his reaſon is diſordered, or that he acts from motives moſt different from thoſe which he profeſſes.’

What ſervice can the Deity receive from the works of man? Is it not derogating from the idea we have of his wiſdom, to think that he can approve acts of folly or madneſs? Is it not offering an affront to his goodneſs, to ſuppoſe that he can take pleaſure in the ſufferings of his creatures? and yet to ſuch abſurd, ſuch impious opinions, do all thoſe auſterities, thoſe religious exerciſes, which impoſe upon the greater part of the world, owe their credit.

The wiſer few, indeed, turn this folly to their own advantage; and upon this apparent ſelf-denial, theſe voluntary ſufferings, found the firmeſt power of enjoying all the real pleaſures of which life is capable.

[86]The love of pleaſure, and the fear of pain, are the ruling principles of the human heart, in which they maintain an uninterrupted ſtruggle for ſuperiority.

Now the whole art of governing mankind conſiſts in the management of theſe two principles; which by ſome means has become the peculiar province of prieſthood, and is the ſcepter with which they rule the world; for as the ignorance of mankind hath been brought to believe the pleaſures of nature to be crimes againſt its author, and that the ſame authority, which has arbitrarily made them ſuch, has given power to a particular ſet of people, to preſcribe means of avoiding the puniſhment of them hereafter, by ſufferings here, (for the impoſition would have refuted itſelf if the puniſhment had not been poſtponed to another ſtate, from which we can have no intelligence, though, at the [87] ſame time, to counterbalance that delay of commencement, there hath been given to it, an eternity of duration) nothing is eaſier, than for thoſe, who are ſuppoſed to be entruſted with this power, to turn the commutation of that puniſhment to their own advantage, in what manner they pleaſe.

In order to exert this power moſt effectually, it is neceſſary to ſtrike the ſenſes of its objects, with an appearance of ſuperior ſanctity, which may be conſidered in the double light, of a conſequence of the ſacred character, and a confirmation of its efficacy; and this cannot be done any way ſo well as by abſtaining, in the extreme degree, from thoſe pleaſures, which are repreſented to be crimes; becauſe it appears to be a conviction that they really are ſuch; and that indulgence in them is as dangerous, as it is repreſented.

[88]Nor is this the only advantage derived from this abſtinence. It is thought to be ſo meritorious, from the ſuppoſed difficulty of it, as to give ſuch an intereſt with the power, in obedience to whom it is pretended to be practiſed, that nothing can be refuſed to the interceſſion of him who practiſes it; and this is the completion of his work.

As to the difficulty of this abſtinence, it is all imaginary. In reſpect to food, the ſimpleſt is that which ſupports nature beſt; and the leſs which is taken, even of that, the better ſhe performs her functions. Were the pleaſure of temperance, both in the quantity and quality of aliment, known, luxury and exceſs would ſoon be baniſhed from the world: and as to other appetites, their force is derived merely from their indulgence. Every day they are reſtrained, the reſtraint becomes leſs [89] troubleſome; till, in the end, it ceaſes to be a trouble.

Of the progreſs which I have already made, in the execution of my deſign, you are yourſelf a witneſs. The greater part of the difficulty, and all doubt of ſucceſs are conquered. Nothing remains now, but to purſue the path, which lieth plain and eaſy before me; and it will ſoon lead me to the ſummit of my wiſhes.

In the mean time I have need of an aſſiſtant in my labours, an aſſociate in my power, who will conſult his own intereſt by his fidelity to me; and for this purpoſe I have ſelected you from among the numbers, who would be proud of ſuch an honour.

My intention is to perſiſt in my preſent manner, till I ſhall have performed this pilgrimage to Mecca; on the additional [90] credit of which, I propoſe, at my return to my native country of Biledulgerid, to promulgate a new religion, which I have already planned on the principles moſt likely to ſtrike thoſe people; and as ſoon as it ſhall have taken poſſeſſion of their minds, I will then unite the civil to the religious power, and eſtabliſh a ſovereignty which no force can ſubvert, as it will be founded in the minds of my ſubjects.

I have thus, my ſon, opened my whole purpoſe to you; and have no doubt of your aſſiſtance in bringing it to perfection, as you will ſhare the benefit, while I live; and enjoy the whole after my deceaſe.

The firſt inſtance, in which I ſhall require your co-operation, is this.

To-morrow, after the evening prayer, I will feign to fall into a trance; which [91] I can do without danger of detection, by means of a compoſition, which hath the power of ſuſpending every animal function, for a length of time, proportioned to the quantity in which it is taken, ſo as to effect an appearance of death, not poſſible to be diſtinguiſhed from the reality.

While I lie, in all appearance, inanimate, you muſt, on a ſudden, fix your eyes upon the air, juſt over me; and then falling on your knees, pray aloud with fervency.

The croud will naturally gather around you, to know the meaning of this conduct; when you muſt point toward the place, where I lie, and aſk them, with looks and exclamations of aſtoniſhment, if they do not ſee a celeſtial ſpirit hanging upon the wing over me?

[92]This will fix their attention, and fire their already heated imaginations to ſuch a degree, that many of them will think they really ſee what you deſcribe; while all the reſt will aſſent to it, to avoid the imputation of infidelity, and for fear of the conſequences of contradicting the ſpirit of enthuſiaſtic ſuperſtition.

When this ſpirit is thus raiſed, I know how to direct it to the beſt advantage. I will feign a revelation of thoſe things which I would have them believe, to the truth of which I will thus make themſelves bear witneſs.

When this firſt ſtep is happily taken, we will conſult how we are to proceed farther.

SECTION III.

[93]

IT is impoſſible to expreſs the horror, with which I was ſtruck by this propoſal. I thought myſelf contaminated by the bare communication of it; and held his confidence as the greateſt diſhonour which had ever befallen me; concluding that he muſt have ſeen an appearance of guilt in my looks, to make him ſelect me for his accomplice.

At firſt I determined to open the myſtery of his iniquity; but when I conſidered the conſequence of contradicting enthuſiaſtic ſuperſtition, as he had ſaid; I did not think myſelf juſtifiable in throwing away my own life, where I had no proſpect of defeating his impious deſigns.

[94]But happily an opportunity ſoon offered, of extricating me from this difficulty.

Along with the caravan, in which I travelled, there journied a company of merchants, who were going to Bagdat and Baſſora, to barter the commodities of Africa, for thoſe of the Aſiatic regions.

We had paſſed the Iſthmus of Suez, the very day before the Santone had opened his intentions to me. As I returned from his tent to my own, my way led me by the quarter of thoſe merchants, whom I found preparing to ſeparate from the caravan, the next morning.

It inſtantly ſtruck me, that I might eſcape the danger of refuſing to enter into his iniquitous ſchemes, by departing along with theſe merchants. I accordingly [95] went directly to my tent; and taking my ſcrip upon my back, and my ſtaff in my hand, joined them, juſt before they began their march.

It was ſome time before my ſoul could free itſelf from the horror with which the profligacy of the Santone had ſtruck me. At length, after weighing deliberately every thing, which he had ſaid, I found conſolation in reflecting, that the abuſe of the beſt things produces the worſt effects; and that the excellence of true piety was only proved more ſignally, by its being able to ſtand the teſt of ſuch proſtitution.

We purſued our journey to Bagdat, without meeting any occurrence worth relating.

High as my curioſity had been raiſed, by the accounts which I had heard of this imperial city, my impatience to embrace [96] the knees of my father was ſo ſtrong, that I ſhould not have delayed an hour in it, had it been in my power to proceed: but all the neighbouring nations were involved in ſuch furious wars, that it was neceſſary for me to wait for a favourable opportunity, before I could expect to perform my journey in ſafety.

The ſcene I was now in, was ſo utterly new to me, that I could only gaze in ſilent admiration, without being able to form any judgment of what I ſaw. The infinite variety of the objects which attracted my attention, prevented my attending to any of them. I had not time to obſerve one, when another preſented itſelf to my obſervation, ſo that I literally was loſt in the wilderneſs of my own thoughts.

While I was in this ſtate of perplexity, I happened one day, as I performed my devotions in the principal moſque, to [97] kneel cloſe to an aged man, who inſtantly fixed his eyes upon me in the moſt earneſt manner.

As I could not recollect that I had ever ſeen him before, I concluded he muſt have miſtaken me for ſome other perſon; and ſoon as the prayers were ended, departed without taking any further notice of him: but I had not gone far, before I was accoſted abruptly by a ſlave, who bade me, with an air of authority, to follow him.

Though I was naturally ſurprized at ſuch an addreſs, I judged, from the manner in which he ſpoke, that it would be in vain for me to refuſe; and therefore, to make a merit of my compliance, obeyed without aſking him any queſtions, or even obſerving whither he led me, till I found myſelf in one of the courts of the Khaliff's palace.

[98]I had not waited long, when I was introduced into the preſence of the grand viſier, whom I directly knew to be the perſon, who had regarded me ſo attentively, ſome minutes before, at the moſque.

As ſoon as I approached him, ‘I would know,’ ſaid he, ‘O young man, who thou art, and what thine occupation is in this city?’

The manner in which he ſpoke was far from giving me any alarm. As I was conſcious of no crime, I was free from fear; and reſolved, while I adhered ſtrictly to truth, not to enter into the particulars of my life, farther than was neceſſary to ſatisfy his curioſity.

‘May the ſubſtitute of him, whoſe power rules the world, I anſwered, live for ever! Your ſlave cometh from the remoteſt parts of Arabia the Happy. My motive [99] for leaving my native country, was to ſee the manners of different people, and prove the precepts of education by experience.’

‘Haſt thou not been among the Bedouins?’ he interrupted me ſternly; ‘and haſt thou not even led thoſe troops of ravagers, in their attacks upon the caravans of the true believers?’

Unexpected as this queſtion was, it did not diſconcert me. I anſwered him in the boldneſs of innocence and truth; and in few words gave him an account of the manner in which I had been taken captive by the Bedouins, and the reaſon of their diſmiſſing me from among them.

The force of truth is irreſiſtible. He heard me with attention; and as ſoon as I had ended: ‘Thy virtue hath been proved by many trials,’ ſaid he, riſing from the ſopha upon which he ſat, and embracing [100] me tenderly; ‘I have been myſelf a grateful witneſs of it. I was in the number of the captives, whom you ſo generouſly ſaved from the cruelty of thoſe barbarians, and diſmiſſed in peace. Nor did my unexpected deliverance, on that day, fill my heart with ſincerer joy, than I feel now, at this happy opportunity of ſhewing my ſenſe of it.’

I need not attempt to deſcribe the effect which theſe words had on me. I returned his embrace with equal warmth, and forgot that I had ever been unhappy.

My friend, for he would never permit me to addreſs him by any other appellation, was not ſatisfied with heaping all the benefits in his own power upon me. He introduced me to the Khaliff, to whom he repreſented me in ſuch an advantageous light, that he ſoon diſtinguiſhed me, by many marks of his favour.

[101]My firſt advances to this envied ſtation drew upon me the frowns and malevolence of all, who had already gained, or aſpired to it: but an event ſoon happened, which totally changed their conduct.

SECTION IV.

MY friend, the viſier, who had deſcended far into the vale of years, fixed his eye upon me as a proper ſucceſſor in thoſe cares, to the weight of which he began to feel himſelf unequal. He recommended me therefore in ſuch ſtrong terms to the Khaliff, that he made no difficulty of permitting him to reſign the reins of government, and entruſting them to me.

The clouds which had attended every ſtep of my aſcent to this height of power, vaniſhed the moment I had attained it: and in their place I met nothing but ſmiles [102] of congratulation, and profeſſions of attachment and reſpect.

Unpractiſed in the ways of men, I readily gave credit to appearances, which I was not conſcious of having given any reaſon to doubt, and formed the moſt pleaſing ſchemes for turning the influential power I now enjoyed to the general advantage; the ſplendor of the preſent ſcene dazzling my eyes, and making me over-look the eſſential reſemblance between it and the former, in which I had met ſo mortifying a diſappointment, in my deſigns of the ſame kind, among the Bedouins.

In this deluſion I eagerly reſumed my favourite ſcheme of reformation, confiding in the obvious rectitude and advantage of it, and the integrity of my own heart, to ſecure my intereſt with the Khaliff; and in his power to protect me from [103] the attempts of any, who ſhould be ſo loſt to every ſenſe of virtue and public ſpirit, as to oppoſe me in the execution.

Nor was I deceived in this confidence. The diſcernment and juſtice of the Khaliff viewed my intentions in a juſt light, and they confirmed me ſtill more ſtrongly in his eſteem.

But there were many obſtacles in the way to my wiſhes, which I foreſaw not at the firſt; or rather looked upon in the oppoſite light.

The greateſt of theſe aroſe from the power of appointing to places of profit or honour under the government, which was apparently veſted in the office I bore; and not only overwhelmed me with vexation, but alſo counteracted my deſigns, though I had built upon it as one of the ſureſt means of their ſucceſs.

[104]Empty as the honour, and poor the profits of many of thoſe places were, the number and importunity of the candidates for them embarraſſed me beyond expreſſion.

Some pleaded their own merits, others thoſe of their anceſtors; this one his youth and ability to do ſervice, that his age and the ſervices he had done, though he was now incapable of repeating them: one urged his poverty, and the neceſſity he had for relief; another his riches, and the influence they gave him over his fellows. In a word, every circumſtance and diſtinction, which varies the motley view of life, was alledged to enforce their pretenſions.

Nor was this ſolicitation only for ſuch places as were actually vacant. They vied with equal eagerneſs for thoſe which were already filled; blackening the characters of the poſſeſſors, as well as of each other, [105] with every calumny which envy or ambition could ſuggeſt.

In the mean time, though it was evident that I could not gratify ſuch numbers as applied, even if I was ſo inclined, yet each affected to take offence; and the refuſal of impoſſible requeſts made me irreconcileable enemies: the competitors dropping their mutual animoſities to join in combinations againſt me, for a diſappointment of expectations contradictory in themſelves, and deſtructive of each other; and repreſenting every word and action of my life in ſuch malignant colours, as made me an object of general deteſtation to the miſguided multitude, whoſe deareſt intereſts and happineſs I was at the very time labouring to promote.

Severely as I felt the ſting of this ingratitude, I bore it, while it affected myſelf only; but when their virulence preſumed to riſe from me to the Khaliff, I [106] could ſupport it no longer: but to prevent that worſt misfortune which can befal a ſovereign, the loſs of his ſubjects' love, threw myſelf at his feet, and implored his permiſſion to leave a court, where my beſt intentions had unhappily produced ſo bad an effect.

Strong as the reaſons were, with which I enforced this requeſt, the Khaliff thought his honour, as well as his regard, concerned not to grant it. He raiſed me from the ground, and bidding me fear nothing, while he approved my conduct, prepared to make thoſe, who had thus preſumed to oppoſe his pleaſure, feel the weight of his reſentment.

But the conſequences which I foreſaw might attend this firmneſs, however favourable to myſelf, and noble in its motive, ſtruck me with horror. I repeated my ſuit, therefore, in terms ſo preſſing, [107] that I, in a manner, extorted his compliance, againſt his inclination; and leaving my enemies to triumph in their ſucceſs, joined a body of troops, which the Khaliff was ſending to the aſſiſtance of Aladdin, king of Diarbee, who then waged a moſt unequal war with the Sultan of Khouareſm.

Though the motives of the oppoſition, to which I had thus fallen a ſacrifice, and the means by which it had been carried on, were equally unjuſt, candour obliges me to confeſs, in this cool moment of deliberate reflection, that my own indiſcretion aſſiſted it, in too many inſtances.

Secure of the ſupport of the Khaliff's favour, I ſlighted public opinion, and thought it beneath me to pay regard to appearances, as my intentions were right; eager for the accompliſhment of which, I never ſtudied a proper ſeaſon; but obtruding them abruptly, without attention [108] to circumſtances, provoked oppoſition, by injudicious precipitancy, where modeſt delicacy and caution would have obviated every objection, and enſured ſucceſs.

I wiſh I could ſay, that the Khaliff himſelf had not alſo given ſomething too like reaſon for the clamours raiſed upon this occaſion.

While he devoted all his thoughts to the cultivation of the finer arts, and moral reformation of his people, the moſt important affairs of the ſtate either languiſhed in neglect, or miſcarried in the attempt of conducting them by the rules of private virtue. From too lively a ſenſe of the evils of war, he ſacrificed the intereſts of his people and the honour of his crown to preſerve peace; and mercy, indiſcriminately diſpenſed, robbed the laws of reſpect, and encouraged crimes, by taking away the fear of puniſhment.

[109]One advantage, it is true, I received from this ſecond diſappointment, which was that of being convinced by the unerring proof of experience, that as power, in the firſt inſtance, does not always procure happineſs, in the ſecond it is always unhappy; for, if the pillow of a prince is ſometimes uneaſy, that of a favourite is ever filled with thorns; all the troubles of the former being aggravated to the latter, by anxiety at the uncertainty of his ſituation.

SECTION V.

THE pain I felt at leaving a court, where I had thought myſelf ſo happily eſtabliſhed, was in ſome degree alleviated by reſentment, and hope of acquiring ſuch glory in the war as ſhould dazzle my enemies at my return; and raiſe me above danger of ſuffering the like diſgrace again, eſpecially as I reſolved never more to give [110] offence by attempting to ſerve people againſt their inclinations.

The Khaliff diſmiſſed me with the warmeſt aſſurances of regard. He had offered me the command of his troops; but a ſenſe of my inexperience in the art of war made me decline ſo difficult a charge, till I ſhould be more equal to it.

‘And yet,’ interrupted Temugin, ‘equal inexperience in the arts of government had not made you decline that charge. Preſumptuous folly! To think it eaſier to govern a whole people in idleneſs, and in a manner free from reſtraint, and conduct the complicated affairs of peace; than to command a ſmall part of them, who are prepared to obey; and direct them to a particular end, however difficult to attain, on which they are themſelves all intent!’

[111]I acknowledge, mighty lord, the juſtice of your reprehenſion, returned the captive; but ſuch is the confidence of man in his own abilities, where it is not reſtrained by the obvious neceſſity of obſerving ſome particular method, of which practice only can make him maſter.

No one attempts the ſimpleſt works of mechaniſm, who has not practiſed the manner; but all think themſelves born with abilities to govern.

‘Proceed,’ replied Temugin; ‘I reprehend not thee. The fault is in human nature.’

As ſoon as I had joined the army of Aladdin, reſumed the captive, I applied myſelf with the greateſt aſſiduity to learn the military art, which I had an opportunity of ſeeing in all its various extent; the war, in which he was engaged, calling [112] forth all the reſources of his genius and courage, to balance the ſuperiority of the Sultan's forces.

The manner in which I had parted from the Khaliff had made me flatter myſelf, that his regard for me was unalterably fixed; but I ſoon had reaſon to change my opinion.

He had ordered me to ſend him conſtant accounts of all the events of the war; but to theſe I never received the leaſt return; and to remove all doubt of the reaſon of ſuch a ſlight, I ſaw one of my moſt malignant enemies appointed to the command of the troops in which I ſerved; though, on the death of the former general, I had ſolicited that truſt, my abilities for which could not now be doubted.

This was an indignity I could not bear. In the anguiſh of my ſoul, therefore, I threw myſelf at the feet of Aladdin, and [113] informing him of my ſituation, implored his protection, and leave to ſerve in his own troops.

That vigilant and diſcerning prince, who was not a ſtranger to the character of any ſoldier in his armies, readily granted my ſuit; and as, in ſuch a ſcene of continued action, I could not long want an opportunity of proving my abilities, I ſoon aroſe to the higheſt rank in his forces.

I had juſtified the good opinion, which raiſed me to the command of a ſeparate army, by ſeveral ſignal ſucceſſes, when a tempeſt and hurricane burſt upon me, one day, as I was on a march, and overwhelmed the greater part of my troops.

As this was an accident, which no human precaution could prevent, I did not apprehend that it could poſſibly be imputed to me as a fault; and therefore ſent [114] directly to inform Aladdin of my misfortune, and deſire a reinforcement.

But he viewed the matter in a different light; and ſending another general to take the command from me, let me know that it was a maxim with him, never to employ again an officer who had once been unfortunate.

‘Impious abſurdity!’ exclaimed Temugin; ‘to ſet his own will in oppoſition to that of heaven, and pretend to make man accountable for its actions! How could he expect that his ſoldiers ſhould ſerve him, with the attachment and confidence neceſſary to ſucceſs, when they were liable thus to loſe the merit of their beſt endeavours, without being guilty of any fault?’

And yet, mighty lord, returned the captive, it is in order to keep up that confidence, that he practiſes ſuch ſeverity. [115] ‘Such is the force of ſuperſtitious opinion!’ I have heard him ſay, ‘that the ſoldier who ſerves under a commander who has once been unfortunate, always fears misfortune; whereas, under one who has ever been ſucceſsful, he ruſhes on his enemy, with an aſſurance of the ſame ſucceſs, which is the moſt certain means of obtaining it.’

As to the particular injuſtice of ſuch a conduct, that never enters into his conſideration. Where the mind is wholly taken up with one object, it meaſures the propriety of any means only by their aptitude to procure it.

Aladdin not only gives the ſtricteſt attention to the general welfare and intereſts of his ſubjects, but alſo relieves the diſtreſſes, and promotes the happineſs of every individual with paternal tenderneſs and care.

[116]But this is, where this diſtreſs or happineſs does not interfere with the operations of the war, the immediate and great object of all his thoughts. Where they do, the tenderneſs and juſtice of the king, and father of his people, are drowned in the political views and ſeverity of the ſoldier and ſtateſman.

Thus, while his ſubjects at home live in happineſs and ſafety under the protection of his care, his ſoldiers are obliged to diveſt themſelves of every natural principle of action, and execute his orders, like mere machines, without regard to circumſtances; or any ſenſe, but that of obedience to his will: a ſtate of ſubjection, which nothing but the hope of accelerating by victory their return to the bleſſings of peace, ſo profuſely enjoyed under him, can make ſupportable to beings, whom reaſon invariably directs to act with a regard to their own happineſs.

[117] ‘Ceaſe your reflections,’ replied Temugin, ‘and proceed with your ſtory. Aladdin is a wiſe prince.’

SECTION VI.

WHEN I had recovered from my firſt aſtoniſhment, continued the captive, I humbled my heart before heaven; and ſeeking in myſelf for the cauſe of ſo many misfortunes, was not at a loſs to attribute them to my having delayed to return to my father; and immediately reſolved to turn my face homewards, nor ſtop till I ſhould throw myſelf at his feet, and obtain his forgiveneſs.

This reſolution baniſhed every repining and reſentful thought, and reſtored ſerenity to my mind. I directly ſet out on my journey, accompanied only by one attendant, whoſe affectionate attachment I could not elude, ſo as to depart alone, as [118] I would have done; and through innumerable difficulties and dangers, at length reached the habitation of my father.

My joy aroſe ſo high, as I approached this ſeat of innocence and content, that I could ſcarce ſupport its emotions. It may be judged then what I felt, on finding his houſe deſerted, and learning from his neighbours that he had diſappeared, in a few days after my departure, nor had ever been heard of ſince.

I ſunk into a ſwoon, from which I recovered only to ſuffer the tortures of a violent fever, into which the workings of my ſoul had inflamed my whole frame.

The care of my faithful attendant ſaved my life; but I languiſhed many moons, in more than infantine weakneſs; nor was it even in the power of his friendſhip to heal the anguiſh of my heart.

[119]At length, when youth had triumphed over the effects of my diſeaſe, a ray of deluſive hope dawned upon me, that I might yet find my father. I recollected, that when I was learning my military exerciſes, he had ſhewn a moſt anxious alarm at my expreſſing a deſire to ſeek experience in the art of war, and uſed every argument to check the military ardour with which I ſeemed to be fired.

This inſtantly ſuggeſted a thought, that he might have concluded I had gone to ſome of the armies engaged in war, and accordingly purſued me.

As I had already ſeen the armies of Bagdat and Diarbee, I thought it in vain to ſeek him among them; and therefore reſolved to repair directly to the camp of the Sultan of Khouraeſm, never reflecting on the improbability of finding an obſcure old man among the innumerable multitudes collected in ſuch a place, or of [120] his having continued there ſo long, even if he had gone thither at the firſt.

I accordingly meaſured back the weary ſteps of my late journey, accompanied by my faithful friend; and proceeded thro' Perſian Irac into the country of Tranſoxana, where I joined the army of Mohammed, whoſe evil genius had led him thither to oppoſe his force to your's.

But a fruitleſs ſearch at length ſhewed me the folly of ſuch a vain undertaking; though I ſtill knew not how to give it up, as it was the laſt reſource of my hope of ever ſeeing my father more.

As I was wandering one day through the camp, buried in theſe painful reflections, the leader of a band of ſoldiers happening to take notice of me, enquired who I was; and turning the honeſt anſwer which I gave him into brutal ridicule, [121] ordered me to be enrolled directly among the troops under his command.

It was in vain to expoſtulate. I was dragged away, amid the cruelties and inſults of thoſe unfeeling wretches, who fallen beneath humanity themſelves, take a malignant pleaſure in aggravating the miſeries of others; and thrown into a dungeon to prevent my attempting to eſcape, till they ſhould go upon action.

Every new misfortune ſeems heavier than the paſt. I thought of nothing now, but the horrors of my preſent ſituation, among the ſevereſt of which I reckoned the loſs of my faithful companion, who had happened to be abſent from me, when I was ſeized; nor had I any poſſibility of letting him know where I was.

When I had lain ſome days in a confinement, the loathſomeneſs and ſeverity [122] of which were ſufficient to break the ſtrongeſt health and ſpirits, I went with the forces into the field, where hope of ending my ſufferings, by an honourable death, prompted me to behave in a manner, that attracted the notice of the commander, and removed all ſuſpicion of my deſiring to quit the ſervice.

On my return to the camp, I ſought my companion, with the moſt anxious care, but with no better ſucceſs than had attended my ſearch for my father.

My ſpirit ſunk under ſuch accumulated diſappointments. I reſolved to return to Himilco; and ſeclude myſelf from a world, whoſe ways I deſpaired of ever being able to reconcile to thoſe principles, by which I had been taught to believe it governed.

While I was conſidering how to accompliſh my eſcape, the day arrived, which [123] was to determine the ſovereign of the world.

Deteſtation of every thing which had the remoteſt appearance of cowardice, would not permit me to leave the army at ſuch a time. I therefore engaged in a cauſe, in which even my wiſhes were not intereſted; and having been entruſted with a ſubordinate command, for I had carefully concealed my having ſerved in the armies of Aladdin, I loſt my liberty in the execution of my duty, and now expect my fate from the ſovereign of mankind.

SECTION VII.

[124]

THE circumſtances of this ſtory made ſo deep an impreſſion on the mind of Temugin, that he remained wrapt in thought for ſome time, after the captive had concluded.

Recollecting himſelf at length, ‘Though thy days have been but few,’ ſaid he, ‘the viciſſitudes of thy life have been ſufficient to give thee the experience of many years. If thou art willing to follow me, I will charge myſelf with thy fortunes. If not, depart in peace, and may thy paths be proſperous: thou art at liberty from this hour. Compulſion and fidelity are incompatible.’

Such condeſcending goodneſs overpowered the grateful heart of Selim. He proſtrated himſelf at the feet of the emperor, [125] and embracing his knees, aſſured him of his moſt faithful attachment.

Though Temugin's late victory, had ſo totally broken the ſpirit of ſultan Mohammed, that he never after dared to face him in the field, his ſon, Gelaleddin, made ſuch noble efforts to retrieve his affairs, as ſeemed for ſome time to keep the event doubtful.

While the emperor, therefore, was taking he neceſſary meaſures for reduc [...]n [...] an enemy, whoſe activity and enterprize rendered him ſtill more formidable, than the number of his forces, he received information of the revolt of one of his newly conquered kingdoms, in which a conſiderable body of his own troops had joined.

Such an event demanded inſtant attention. The example might be followed by others; and the reduction attended with more difficulty than the firſt conqueſt; as [126] deſpair always ſtrengthens the hand of rebellion.

The account had arrived juſt as Selim had finiſhed the ſtory of his life. In a moment the whole camp was in motion; and the riſing ſun found Temugin in full march, at the head of a body of forces, equal to the occaſion, which he held not of importance ſufficient to require his whole army.

In ſuch general commotions, private individuals are eaſily overlooked. Selim had received no orders to attend the emperor; but he deemed it his duty; and reſolved to keep as near to his perſon as poſſible, in hope of ſome happy opportunity of proving in his ſight, that he was not unworthy of the favour which had been ſhewn him.

The army of Temugin had ſcarce entered the country of the rebels, when [127] they daringly advanced to meet him. The battle was obſtinate and bloody. As Temugin was haſting to ſupport one of the wings of his army, which was beginning to give way, he found himſelf unexpectedly ſurrounded by a band of the rebels, who knowing his perſon, had made a deſperate effort to take him priſoner: but though he ſaw all his attendants cut to pieces, he diſdained to ſubmit to ſuch indignity. He ſtood reſolutely on his defence; and like a lion fallen into a pit, ſacrificed to his revenge, every one, who dared to come within his reach, till he was juſt ſinking under fatigue, and loſs of blood; when, in the important moment, which ſeparates life from death, a ſingle ſoldier broke through the croud, and throwing himſelf before him, with a loud ſhout, exerted efforts of ſuch uncommon valour in his defence, as kept the enemy off, till a body of troops, whom he had apprized of the emperor's danger, and who had [128] followed him, as cloſe as they could, came to his relief.

This was the laſt ſtruggle which the rebels made for victory. As ſoon as the battle was ended, the firſt care of Temugin was to find his deliverer, whom he had known, amidſt all the tumults of ſuch a ſcene.

On the ſoldier's advancing through the croud of princes and commanders, who had gathered round the emperor to expreſs their joy at his ſafety, and congratulate him on the victory, which had crowned his arms, ‘Take this,’ ſaid he, reaching him his own ſword, ‘ſon of Abudah, as a pledge of my eſteem; and aſk any boon which your heart wiſheth, in reward of your fidelity and valour.’

‘Conqueror of the world,’ replied Selim, throwing himſelf at the emperor's [129] feet, ‘my heart's firſt wiſh is to lay down with glory, in your ſervice, that life which you have bleſſed with liberty. The bare performance of duty merits not reward.’

The emperor then turning to one of his chieftains, ‘Go,’ ſaid he, ‘put all the captives to the ſword; let looſe the rage of war upon the country; nor leave a ſoul alive to preſerve the name of ſuch a people upon the face of the earth! The world ſhall ſee the conſequence of rebelling againſt my power.’

SECTION VIII.

[130]

THE chief was juſt departing to put theſe orders in execution, when Selim ſtepped forward, and proſtrating himſelf again, at the emperor's feet, ‘Revoke the dreadful ſentence,’ ſaid he, ‘O ſubſtitute of heaven! and imitate his mercy who hath given you his power.’

All preſent were ſtruck with aſtoniſhment and affright, at a preſumption never attempted before; the word of the emperor being held as ſacred as the will of heaven.

Temugin ſtarted; and looking furiouſly on Selim, as he lay trembling with eagerneſs and anxiety at his feet, 'How!' ſaid he; ‘dareſt thou to doubt the juſtice of my commands? To interpoſe thyſelf between rebellion and my vengeance? [131] Beware, raſh youth; ſuch a crime, even in thought, cancels all merit.’

‘Never ſhall a thought of his ſlave,’ returned Selim, ‘give offence to my lord. I revere thy irreſiſtible power; and ſhrink to nothing before thy wrath: but O, hearken to the words of thy ſlave. Let the guilty, but the guilty only, ſuffer: infants are incapable of rebellion; and weakneſs ſinks the woman and old age equally beneath vengeance. Let the innocent live to witneſs the puniſhment of the guilty. The dead obey no more! nor does a deſolated country yield laurels to adorn the victor's brow.’

The words of Selim ſunk into the emperor's heart. He ſtood, ſome moments, buried in thought; then, ſoftening the rage which glowed in his looks, 'Ariſe,' ſaid he, ‘I will ſhew you that my word is irrevocable. I bade you aſk a boon! You have aſked; and ſhall obtain it. [132] Go! take under your command the troops of Caſbin; and execute my vengeance according to the rules of that juſtice, in favour of which you have ventured to plead ſo ſtrongly.’

Such a charge exceeded even the hopes of Selim. He bowed his head to the ground, in teſtimony of obedience; and riſing, departed inſtantly to execute a command, which gratified the deareſt paſſions of his heart.

Putting himſelf, therefore, at the head of the forces aſſigned to him, he flew directly to ſtop the carnage, always committed in the firſt heat of victory; and gathering all the captives into one body, he ſurrounded them with a guard, not more to prevent their eſcape, than to protect them from farther injury; having done which, he directed his march to the capital, taking them along with him.

[133]As the reaſon of the emperor's conferring this command upon Selim, was as yet known but to few, it was thought he had thus ſaved the lives of the captives for the preſent, only to ſtrike the greater terror, by putting them to death in the ſight of their families and friends; for mercy to rebels was a thing unheard of.

But he ſuffered them not to remain long in an opinion ſo injurious to his intentions. As ſoon as he arrived before the capital, he ordered all the priſoners to be led forth; and advancing toward them, as they ſtood trembling with ſuſpenſe and horror, ‘The firſt orders of the emperor's juſt wrath,’ ſaid he, ‘were to exterminate a people, who had dared to rebel againſt him; but his mercy hath interpoſed; and his juſtice now ordains, that the guilty only ſhall ſuffer.’

‘Let theſe therefore be pointed out! Who were the firſt inciters to this rebellion? what pretext was feigned? what end propoſed [134] to encourage it? He is unworthy to lead in any cauſe, who will not ſtand between his followers and deſtruction.’

He had ſcarce ſpoken theſe words, when a confuſed noiſe announced the arrival of the king of this unhappy people. He appeared to have paſt the middle ſtage of man's life; but to have ſuffered more from misfortune than from time. A ray of native majeſty ſhot through the gloom of grief, which overcaſt his looks. He was arrayed in the garb of mourning; and the enſigns of royalty were borne reverſed before him.

At his approach, all was ſtill as death. On being informed of what Selim had ſaid, a gleam of joy flaſhed over his face. He ſtepped forward, and with an air of dignity and reſolution, ‘Behold, O worthy ſubſtitute of the conqueror of the world,’ he ſaid, ‘the man, whom you ſeek! I was the king of this unhappy people; [135] and on my head muſt fall the puniſhment of their miſdoings.’

‘He was not the author of the revolt! He led not the people to battle,’ exclaimed a youth, breaking through the croud of captives, who ſtrove in vain to reſtrain him: ‘That crime, ſince heaven hath declared it ſuch by the event, was mine; and I alone deſerve to die for it.’

'Away! raſh boy!' returned the venerable monarch; ‘nor add thy diſobedience to the number of my griefs. Wouldſt thou uſurp the rights of thy king? for who, but their king, can be anſwerable for his people?’

Then addreſſing himſelf to Selim, ‘If I was not the immediate author of the revolt,’ he continued, ‘I ſtrove not to ſuppreſs it! If he led the people to battle, it was in the authority of my name, and with my aſſent. What was a crime [136] therefore in me, was only a duty in him; nor would it be conſiſtent with the juſtice you propoſe, to let the ſon ſuffer for doing that which his ſovereign and his father did not forbid him to do.’

SECTION IX.

SELIM liſtened with equal pleaſure and ſurprize, to a conteſt which did honour to the human name. But it was far from being ſo pleaſing to all preſent.

The troops, at the head of which the emperor had placed him, were commanded, under him, by Cafor, the chieftain, againſt whom the rebellion had firſt been raiſed.

As Selim was proceeding to interpoſe between the father and the ſon, he was interrupted by Cafor, who juſt then joined him: ‘Let the inſtant deaths of both,’ ſaid he ſternly, ‘put [137] an end to their audacious conteſt. It were treaſon to ſhew mercy to traitors.’

‘And canſt thou doom us to death,’ returned the youth, trembling with indignant rage, ‘for that which thy injuſtice alone compelled us to do? For ſeeking redreſs of wrongs, too great for human nature to ſubmit to?’

'What can this mean?' interrupted Selim. ‘What wrongs doſt thou complain of? and whoſe injuſtice was the cauſe of thy rebellion? Speak in the boldneſs of truth, and expect juſtice.’

'Our wrongs, O gracious chieftain,' replied the prince, melting into tears, at the tenderneſs which ſhone in the looks of Selim, ‘are too many to be recited in a moment; and the perpetrator too mighty for me to contend with. You ſee before you, two of the moſt miſerable of men, made ſo by him, who [138] ſtands in the ſecurity of power, at your right hand. The injuſtice of Cafor was the cauſe of our crime. Againſt that only, not againſt the ſovereignty of Temugin, did we revolt! And if thou wilt but ſweeten death, with an hope that our wrongs ſhall be avenged upon his head, this moment will I meet it with joy, in any form which his own cruelty can preſcribe.’

‘Shall the power of Temugin be thus inſulted?’ exclaimed Cafor, ‘and his vengeance delayed by the vain words of a ſlave? Give them to death, the hoary traitor and his rebellious ſon! Give them inſtantly to the death which their acknowledged guilt deſerves; nor let the honour of our ſovereign be longer trifled with in this manner.’

‘Son of Aſhur,’ returned Selim, ‘the power of our mighty lord ſhall not be inſulted; nor his vengeance delayed [139] longer, than is neceſſary for putting it under the direction of juſtice, by which alone the honour of a ſovereign is ſupported.’

Then turning to the captive prince, ‘Thy accuſation,’ he continued, ‘falls upon a reſpected head; and muſt be ſupported by the cleareſt proof, or it will recoil with tenfold force upon thyſelf! But let not this diſcourage thee to ſpeak the words of truth. Juſtice knoweth no diſtinction of perſons.’

Emboldened by this aſſurance, the prince pauſed for a few moments, then raiſing his eyes ſlowly from the ground, and fixing them with the modeſt confidence of innocence upon Selim, ‘O ſhadow of him, who rules the world,’ he ſaid, ‘I obey thy command; and will unfold our griefs as far as nature is able to give them utterance, depending upon [140] thy compaſſion to pardon the incoherencies of diſtraction and deſpair.’

This unhappy land, now doomed to ſuffer all the miſeries of war, has flouriſhed, for a long ſucceſſion of ages, under the government of my anceſtors, who all placed their glory in the happineſs of their people.

From the firſt hour of his reign, my father trod invariably in their ſacred ſteps; and, in order to train me in the ſame, admitted me into his councils, and made room for me on his throne, as ſoon as reaſon had gained ſufficient ſtrength to imitate the example he ſet me.

How far I anſwered his hopes, is not for me to ſay. He ſeemed to be pleaſed; and I was happy.

[141]In this manner my age had numbered two hundred moons, when the power of Temugin began to ſhake the world.

In the ardour of inexperienced youth, I would have oppoſed his victorious arms, and defended the throne of my anceſtors; but the wiſdom of my father reſtrained my raſhneſs.

Wouldſt thou ſtop the flowing of the ſea? he ſaid. Can the breath of thy mouth repel the ſtorm? It is a duty to yield, where reſiſtance is without hope.

My people may be as happy under another ſovereign, nor will I expoſe them to deſtruction to preſerve upon my head a crown, which I have always conſidered to have been given to me, as much for their advantage, as my own.

[142]I will reſign myſelf, therefore, to the will of heaven, without repining. I will ſubmit to the conqueror. Ambition is often accompanied by generoſity. Perhaps he may require no more than an acknowledgment of his ſuperior power; and leave me to govern my people in peace under him. If not, I ſhall, at leaſt, have this conſolation, that they will have no reaſon to repent of their attachment to me.

SECTION X.

THE will of my father had ever been the rule of my actions. I obeyed without reply. The conſequence was that which he had foreſeen. Temugin not only confirmed him on his throne; but alſo honoured him with his particular confidence and friendſhip.

[143]Impelled by gratitude, I offered him my ſervice, in his wars, at the head of a body of our choſen youth. My offer was accepted, and our ſervice approved on many occaſions.

But this happineſs was of ſhort duration. The kings of the neighbouring nations, who, uninfluenced by the ſame principles of wiſdom and virtue, as my father, had attempted to reſiſt the conqueror, found not the ſame favour from him When he turned his arms to diſtant conqueſts, therefore, he committed the government of their kingdoms to one of his commanders, leaving him an army to enforce that obedience, which, he was ſenſible, depended upon force alone.

Though my father's kingdom could not have been included in this charge, as the emperor had, from the firſt, reinſtated him in all the powers of royalty, and I was in his armies, as a pledge for [144] his faith, the avarice of this commander levelled all diſtinction.

No ſooner had the tide of the emperor's conqueſts led him afar off, than he entered our country, in an hoſtile manner, and under the pretext of diſarming the inhabitants, who made no reſiſtance, plundered them with the moſt inſatiable rapacity, of the acquiſitions of ages of induſtry and peace.

Surprized at ſuch an outrage, my father attempted to expoſtulate with the invader; but inſtead of paying regard to his words, he affected to treat his very expoſtulation as rebellion; and marching directly to the capital of his kingdom, entered, as in conqueſt, gates which were opened to him in the confidence of peace, and deprived him of every ſhadow of power.

[145]Nor did he ſtop there. The wealth of which he had ſpoiled the country, inſtead of ſatisfying, had only heightened his avarice. He thought the Prince muſt be perſonally rich, in proportion to the riches of his people. He therefore ſeized the treaſures of the crown; and not finding them to anſwer his expectations, concluded that they had been ſecreted from his ſearch: for my father looking upon his ſubjects as his moſt faithful ſtewards, had ever ſcorned the prepoſterous policy of amaſſing wealth which he did not immediately want, and knew would encreaſe in their poſſeſſion againſt he ſhould have occaſion for it.

Enraged at this diſappointment, he ſtrove to intimidate my father, by threats, to a diſcovery which was not in his power to make; but finding them ineffectual, he—that man—whom, to my diſhonour, I behold alive—that Cafor —accurſed be his name—dared to carry [146] his threats into execution; and loading him with many ſtripes, ſhed his ſacred blood by the ignominious hand of the executioner.

Obedience to my father had made his people ſubmit to their own ſufferings; but his they could not bear. They aroſe like one man. They delivered him from the hands of the tyrant, who baſely ſaved himſelf by flight.

The army, in which I ſerved, was not far diſtant. I ſoon heard the dreadful tidings, and flew to my father, followed by my faithful friends. I would have avenged his wrongs, but I was not able. I could not even die in the juſt attempt.

Thus, mighty commander, have I ſhewn thee the cauſe of our revolt. I confeſs my guilt. I have fought againſt my ſovereign, to ſave my father. Let me alone ſuffer for my crime; but before [147] I do ſuffer, I claim thy promiſe of juſtice upon the author of that crime.

Prove the truth of my charge by every torture which he can invent; but let his puniſhment follow the proof, and I ſhall die happy.

SECTION XI.

IT was not without difficulty that Selim could prevent Cafor from frequently interrupting the captive prince in the courſe of his narrative. As ſoon as it was ended, he turned to the accuſed, with a cool, but determined look, and demanded what defence he could make againſt ſo black a charge.

'This ſhall defend me,' anſwered Cafor, in a rage, brandiſhing his ſabre over his head; ‘I diſdain to ſubmit to any other deciſion.’

[148]'O, let the ſword decide it!' exclaimed the prince eagerly. ‘Strong though his arm, the juſtice of heaven is ſtill ſtronger. Let the ſword decide it, this moment.’

'We need not refer to heaven,' returned Selim, ‘for the deciſion of that which human reaſon can decide. When appeals to the ſword are admitted, obedience to the laws is at an end. Every man is then the ſovereign arbiter of his own cauſe.’

Then turning to Cafor, 'Son of Aſhur,' he continued, ‘ſince thou canſt not refute the atrocious charge brought againſt thee, take the juſt puniſhment of thy guilt.’—Saying which, he made a ſignal to his ſoldiers, who inſtantly ſmote off the head of Cafor, and laid it at his feet.

The tumult, occaſioned by this unexpected event, had no ſooner ſubſided, than [149] Selim, addreſſing himſelf to the king, who had ſtood all this time in the ſtupefaction of grief before him, ‘To thee, O injured monarch,’ ſaid he, ‘the juſtice of Temugin hath rendered this redreſs; and now reinſtates thee in all the rights of that ſovereignty, of which thou haſt been ſo unworthily deprived. Reſtore tranquillity and order among your people; puniſh paſt crimes, to prevent the repetition of them; and compleat your own glory, by compleating the happineſs of your ſubjects. It is the intention of Temugin, that all who live under his power ſhould be happy.’

Then raiſing the prince, who lay at his feet, panting in an extaſy of gratitude and joy, ‘As for your fate,’ he continued, ‘it muſt be determined by the word of our ſovereign. He commanded me to puniſh the authors of this revolt. How far you may be included in that command, is for himſelf to ſay. Be not, [150] however, diſmayed. He will weigh the cauſe againſt the crime, and pay juſt regard to the firſt of human duties.’

This ſignal inſtance of juſtice reſtored peace to the country. Satisfied at ſeeing the wrongs of their ſovereign redreſſed, the people forgot their own, and readily returned to their duty; while their happineſs ſecured their continuance in it.

On Selim's return, he threw himſelf at the feet of Temugin, to render an account of his charge. The fate of Cafor had reached the camp before him, and the emperor had not diſcloſed his ſentiments upon it. All therefore waited with anxiety for the event.

The emperor having heard him with unmoved attention, as ſoon as he had ended, 'The heart of man,' ſaid he, looking around him with an air of majeſty, [151] which ſtruck every beholder with awe, ‘can be read only by the eye of heaven! I knew the valour of Cafor, and doubted not his virtue; but he hath paid the juſt penalty of his crime, and my honour is vindicated.’

Then directing himſelf to the prince, who lay proſtrate before him, 'Ariſe,' he continued, ‘and reſume your command in my armies. I war not againſt nature!’

‘And you,’ turning to Selim, ‘to whoſe more powerful genius the fortune of Togrul was obliged to yield; aſſume the name; and ſtand near me, in the place of that brave and faithful warrior, whoſe wiſdom in the council was equal to his valour in the field.’

End of the SECOND BOOK.

THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS. BOOK THE THIRD.

[]

SECTION I.

THE exalted ſtation to which Togrul (for by that name was he now known) was thus raiſed, gave, for ſome time, ſuch employment to his mind, that he ſcarce thought of his former misfortunes.

But this reſpite was not long. No ſooner had the firſt tumults of youthful [154] joy and ambition ſubſided, than all his grief returned with aggravated weight; and he upbraided himſelf for having ſuffered it to be ſuſpended, even for a moment, by the ſmiles of a proſperity, which he conſidered as acquired at the loſs of his father, and not to be enjoyed without the farther crime of violating his faith to the daughter of Himilco, now the ſole object of his hopes and wiſhes; to whom he accordingly reſolved to return.

But a principle of gratitude would not permit him to carry this purpoſe into execution, before he ſhould, by ſome new ſervices, repay the debt he owed to Temugin, and prove himſelf not unworthy of the rank to which he was raiſed.

In the mean time Temugin, who was no ſtranger to the leading paſſions of his heart, generouſly reſolved to employ him in a ſervice, which ſhould afford him the ampleſt opportunity of indulging them.

[155]Calling for him therefore, one morning, ‘Togrul,’ ſaid he, ‘I know not in what light I am to hold the Khaliff of Bagdat; whether as an enemy, or a friend. The oppreſſions which he ſuffered, from the lawleſs ambition and pride of Mohammed, ſhould have filled his heart with gratitude to his deliverer; but never hath he thought proper to take the leaſt notice of his obligation, nor made any advances toward my friendſhip.’

‘Take, therefore, the troops under your command, and proceed directly to Bagdat. If you find him deſerving of my favour, receive him to it on proper terms; if not, the ſword is in your hand to vindicate my rights.’

No charge, in the power of Temugin to give, could have affected Togrul in ſo intereſting a manner. The favours, the [156] ſlights he had received from the Khaliff, the malignancy of his enemies, and the opportunity of revenge now in his power, flaſhed inſtantly upon him, and ſet every paſſion of his heart in conflict.

Proſtrating himſelf at the feet of the emperor, ‘I acknowledge,’ ſaid he, ‘mighty lord, the honour conferred upon me by this important truſt, and will endeavour to acquit myſelf of it to your ſatisfaction. But, O remember the trial to which your ſlave is expoſed!’

‘I ſee,’ interrupted the emperor, ‘the workings of your ſoul; but I doubt not your ability to ſurmount ſtill greater trials. It is by ſuch alone that virtue can be proved.’

The armies of Temugin were always in readineſs to carry his orders into inſtant execution. Togrul decamped at the firſt [157] hour of the evening, animated with an ardour, from which his forces drew the happieſt preſages of ſucceſs.

As he purſued his march through the country of Farſiſtan, his attention was one day ſtruck by a pile of ruins, the magnificence of which tempted him to take a nearer view of them, while his troops halted for refreſhment.

The reflections, naturally ſuggeſted by ſuch ſcenes, were interrupted by the ſight of an aged man, ſitting in a melancholy poſture, with his eyes intently fixed upon ſome fragments, which lay in an heap before him, while a flood of tears rolled in ſilence down his furrowed cheeks.

Such a ſight was equally affecting to curioſity and compaſſion. Advancing therefore toward him, 'Pardon,' ſaid Togrul, ‘O venerable father! the intruſion [158] of a ſtranger, who wiſhes to know the cauſe of your diſtreſs, in hope it may be in his power to offer you relief.’

The mourner raiſed his eyes, and looking eagerly around, ‘Is the voice of benevolence heard again in this place?’ he exclaimed. ‘Sweet is the ſound, tho' its purpoſe is impoſſible.’

Then fixing his eyes moſt attentively upon Togrul for ſome moments, ‘Your words, O illuſtrious young man,’ he continued, ‘ſpeak a feeling heart; and I ſee that you have already taſted of adverſity. I will therefore ſatisfy your enquiry, though hopeleſs of its motive; for, alas! my woes admit not of relief.’

Having ſaid this, he turned his face to the Eaſt, and proſtrating himſelf before the heap of fragments, ‘O life of the univerſe!’ he ſaid, ‘thou glorious Sun! [159] protect theſe ſacred relicks from pollution; nor give the aſhes of Zelis to the winds, before mine ſhall be mingled with them.’

When he had offered up this prayer, he aroſe, and turning to Togrul, ‘I have promiſed to unfold to you the cauſe of my unhappineſs,’ he continued; ‘but this place is improper. The voice of prayer and adoration only ſhould be heard here. We will withdraw into the ſhade of yonder arch, and there I will relate the melancholy tale.’

As ſoon as Togrul and he were ſeated, 'Theſe ruins,' ſaid the mourner, with a ſigh, which ſeemed to burſt his heart, ‘are all which remains of the ſacred Temple of the Sun; and in that ſpot, now covered with thoſe fragments, once ſtood the altar, on which my anceſtors, for ages without number, fed the everliving [160] fire, the hallowed emblem of his purity and power; till the divine wrath, kindled againſt the ſins of mankind, gave up the world to the ravages of the Arabians, who not content with temporal dominion, dared to attack the ſovereignty of heaven.’

They polluted our temples; they over-turned our altars; and impiouſly attempted to extinguiſh the ſacred fire, emblem of him whoſe light had illuminated the world from its firſt creation. An impiety never preſumed before by any who had obtained dominion over us.

But heaven had not ſo far abandoned the human race. Forewarned in a dream, one of our lineage had built an altar, in the mountains of Irac Agem; and ſecretly removed thither a ſpark of the true fire, before the ſacrilegious ravagers reached this temple.

[161]The horrors of that day are not to be deſcribed. In vain did the prieſts hold up their hands, never defiled with blood, never profaned with any inſtrument of deſtruction, to avert the rage of war from theſe holy walls. The tears of the mother, and the cries of her infants, pleaded in vain. The barbarians were equally deaf to innocence and virtue.

Then did the piety of our race ſhine forth in all its glory. They gathered themſelves around the altar, and covering it with their bodies, ſaved the ſacred fire from profanation by extinguiſhing it with their blood, which was ſhed without reſpect to age or ſex, and the temple reduced to this heap of ruins.

It is impoſſible to expreſs the conſternation of the people at this fatal outrage. Thinking the ſacred fire utterly extinguiſhed, they abandoned themſelves [162] to deſpair, and every where courted the ſwords of their deſtroyers.

At length, the ſpark, which had been preſerved in Irac Agem, being diſcovered, the poor remains of the true Perſees, repaired to it; and preferring thoſe inhoſpitable mountains to the fertile plains of Farſiſtan, without this object of their worſhip, built themſelves a little city, where their poſterity hath lived in peace to this day.

Of all our lineage, there had eſcaped the general maſſacre, only the one who attended the altar he had built in Irac Agem; and an infant daughter, borne to him by his ſiſter, at the loſs of her own life, ſoon after her arrival there.

The danger of loſing a race, ſo long endeared to their love, ſo neceſſary to their religion, filled the Perſees with the [163] ſtrongeſt fear; but heaven heard their prayers, and from theſe two ſprung a progeny which hath ſubſiſted ever ſince; for never was our blood contaminated by mixture with any other, all our alliances being among ourſelves, and in the neareſt relations of nature; a cuſtom by which we double the happineſs of life, in the union of all its endearments.

But though driven thus by irreſiſtible neceſſity from our native land, once in our lives we never fail to viſit theſe revered ruins, to implore from the Sun a reſtoration of their glory; and ſprinkle upon the remains of his altar the aſhes of our deceaſed kindred, which we religiouſly preſerve for that purpoſe; and this was the melancholy cauſe of my coming hither at this time.

A flood of tears here choaked his utterance. He hung down his head, and ſobbed aloud for ſome moments, while [164] Togrul humanely wept in ſilence with him.

SECTION II.

AS ſoon as he had recovered the power of ſpeech, ‘Were I not convinced of the benevolence of your heart,’ he reſumed, ‘O virtuous youth! I ſhould make an excuſe for paying a tribute to nature, which affected heroiſm has diſhonoured with the name of weakneſs; but I ſee you are ſuperior to ſuch falſe refinement.’

This melancholy duty having fallen upon me this year, I yielded in an unhappy hour to the ſollicitations of my wife, to let her accompany me hither.

On the third day of our journey, we were met by a troop of Tartars, who had ſeparated from the armies of Temugin, [165] and ranged the country in ſearch of plunder.

The innocence of our lives, and our known poverty in thoſe things which are called the riches of the world, had ever preſerved us in peace with all the nations round. I advanced therefore without fear to the leader of the troop, and informing him who we were, expected to have been permitted to purſue our journey without interruption.

But alas! I flattered myſelf with vain expectation. He had looked at the beauty of my wife with eyes of deſire, and reſolved to tear her from my boſom.

Unwilling however to have recourſe to open violence, for fear of oppoſition from his followers, who, he knew, held our people in the higheſt reverence, he [166] preſſed us to take ſhelter in his tent from the heat of noon; a courteſy feigned, that he might have time to form ſome ſcheme for accompliſhing his baſe deſign.

There are ſome offers, which, however unacceptable, cannot be refuſed.

The Perſees have ever been famed for hoſpitality, above all the nations upon earth. We could not refuſe entering his tent, without an appearance of unſocial ingratitude, though our laws would not permit us to taſte a drop of water with him.

We had not been long there, when he withdrew, under a pretence of giving ſome orders to his men; nor returned till it was too late for us to reach the caravanſera, in which we had propoſed to reſt that night: for it would have been [167] reckoned an infringement upon the laws of hoſpitality in us, to have departed without waiting for him.

Our uneaſineſs, in ſuch a ſituation, may be well conceived; but he gave reaſons of ſuch plauſibility for his abſence, and offered ſo courteouſly to remain where he was for that night, for our convenience, that we could not avoid complying to ſtay with him.

His joy, at ſeeing us run ſo readily, as he thought, into his ſnares, put him off his guard.

I caught a glance of his eye, as he gazed at my wife, in which I read the nefarious purpoſe of his heart. I aroſe, therefore, inſtantly, and claiming the ſacred privilege of hoſpitality, proceeded that moment on my journey, along with my wife.

[168]The ſhades of night falling upon us, as we travelled by the ſide of a wood, my wife was ſo terrified by the roaring of the wild beaſts, iſſuing from their dens in queſt of prey, that I was obliged to give way to her fears, and aſſiſt her to climb a lofty tree, where I placed her in ſafety among the boughs, ſeating myſelf beſide her.

The fears of my wife ſeemed to have been impreſſed by heaven, to ſave us from dangers ſtill more terrible than thoſe ſhe was afraid of.

We were ſcarcely ſettled in the tree, when we heard the tread of horſes; and in a little time could diſtinguiſh the voice of the Tartar, exultingly anticipating to his followers the pleaſure he promiſed himſelf in the poſſeſſion of my wife, as he paſſed by our place of refuge.

[169]The appearance of the morning at length giving us hope that our danger was over, we deſcended from the tree; and having offered up our adorations to the riſing ſun, were preparing to proceed in our journey, when we perceived our enemy approaching toward us on his return.

It is impoſſible to expreſs the horrors with which this ſight ſtruck us. My wife, in the vain impulſe of deſpair, ran toward the wood, whither the Tartar purſued her, while his companions ſeized me.

Her flight was ſoon ſtopped. The raviſher overtook her, and mad with deſire, attempted to gratify his brutal appetites upon the ſpot. What were the ſenſations of my ſoul in that dreadful moment! But heaven ſaw my diſtreſs, and heard the cries of her innocence.

SECTION III.

[170]

JUST as he had overpowered her reſiſtance, a lion, rouzed by her ſhrieks, iſſued from a brake, near to which heaven had directed her flight, and ruſhing upon the ruffian, tore him piecemeal in an inſtant.

Soon as my wife found herſelf freed from his violence, ſhe ſtarted from the ground, and ran with out-ſtretched arms towards me for protection, incapable of conſidering my inability to afford it, nor even ſenſible of the means of her deliverance.

But the power, which had ſo ſignally ſaved her, continued his care of us both. The Tartars, who had ſeized me, ſtruck with ſo evident an interpoſition of heaven, no ſooner ſaw their leader ſlain, than [171] fearing a like fate for themſelves, as accomplices in his guilt, they looſed their hold, and ſpringing upon their horſes, fled out of ſight in a moment.

Theſe events had ſucceeded each other ſo rapidly, that reaſon was unable to keep pace with them. I ſtood ſtupified with aſtoniſhment, nor had power to advance to meet my wife, till ſhe fell motionleſs at my feet.

This ſight reſtored me to myſelf. I raiſed her head, and laying it in my boſom, attempted to ſoothe her diſtreſs with words of comfort, which I wanted little leſs myſelf.

The generous lion, in the mean time, ſtood over the victim of his juſtice, growling with ſavage delight, and laſhing his ſides with his tail, without advancing a ſingle ſtep towards us, though ſo near him; till ſatisfied with his [172] triumph, he returned ſlowly back to his den.

It was a conſiderable time before I could bring my wife to her ſenſes. The conflict had been too violent for her tender frame. Her ſpirits and ſtrength equally ſunk under it: ſunk, alas! never to recover. Several times ſhe opened her eyes, and fixed them wildly on me; then ſtarting in the impreſſion of her fright, gave a feeble ſhriek, and ſwooned away again.

At length, ſhe became more compoſed; but ſtill ſhe was unable to walk; and every moment we delayed there, encreaſed my fears of the return of the Tartars, to revenge their leader's death.

In this diſtreſs, I happened to caſt my eye upon the horſe of the raviſher, which his followers had, in their affright, left [173] behind them, tied to a tree; and placing her with difficulty upon him, walked by her ſide to encourage and ſupport her, till we arrived at the caravanſera.

This was the laſt effort of her ſtrength. The delicacy of her ſoul was wounded by the baſe attempt of violation, and the affright had over-ſhadowed her reaſon.

For three days ſhe pined in my boſom, then drooping her head, like a lily torne from the root, expired without a ſtruggle.

My ſituation can be conceived only by a feeling heart. O my Zelis! thou wert the delight of my eyes, the hope and comfort of my life. She was the firſt fruits of my love, by my own mother, whom, according to our holy laws, I had wedded in my early youth, on the immature death of my father.

[174]I would gladly have accompanied her to the manſions of the bleſſed; but piety, and my very love for her, equally reſtrained me.

Reaſon had had time to reſume her rule during the approaches of her death. The laws of our religion forbid us to ſhed human blood, even in ſelf-defence. How then could I dare to ſtain my hands with my own? Beſide, who ſhould perform the laſt rites to her dear remains, and ſprinkle her aſhes on this altar? Who ſhould perform the ſame pious office for me, that I may be reunited to her, and to the reſt of our holy race?

I was convinced of my duty, and prepared to fulfil it. I waſhed her pure body with my tears. I wrapped it in precious ſpices, which I received in exchange for the horſe of the Tartar, from certain merchants in the caravanſera, and building a lofty pile of aromatic woods, [175] reduced it to aſhes, which I have this day ſpread upon yonder ſacred ruins of our altar.

This, O courteous ſtranger! is the ſermon of my woes, which, you ſee, will admit of no relief. I now turn my face to our place of refuge in the mountains, there to devote the reſidue of my unhappy days to the contemplation of that Being, by whoſe power, and in whoſe preſence only, I can be reſtored to happineſs.

SECTION IV.

THOUGH the heart of Togrul ſympathized with the unhappy ſufferer, there were ſome circumſtances in his ſtory which affected him in a very different manner.

As his reaſon was convinced of the incomprehenſible eſſence of the Deity, he conſidered every aſſimilation of him to objects [176] of ſenſe, as the moſt impious abſurdity; and the very thought of paying to his creatures, the adoration due only to himſelf, ſtruck him with ſacred horror.

Nor were his moral ſentiments leſs hurt, by cuſtoms which he held to be contrary to the moſt inviolable laws of nature.

Well aware as he was of the inefficacy of argument in matters of religious prejudice, he would have thought ſilence a crime on ſuch an occaſion, as implying an aſſent which his ſoul diſclaimed.

As ſoon, therefore, as the Perſee had ended his melancholy narrative, ‘I condole with you for your loſs,’ ſaid he, ‘O man of affliction! but I dare not offer conſolation before you have reconciled yourſelf to heaven, by a renunciation of thoſe errors (ſhould I not rather ſay crimes?) which have drawn its wrath upon your head.’

[177] ‘You blindly miſtake the creature for the Creator, and rob him of that worſhip which is his ſole and incommunicable right: and your marriages break down the fences, which nature hath eſtabliſhed to guard moral chaſtity, forcing her back upon herſelf, in connections, againſt which ſhe revolts with horror.’

Heavy as this charge was, the Perſee was not abaſhed. Fixing his eyes upon Togrul, with a modeſt firmneſs, ‘Moſt unworthy of conſolation ſhould I certainly be,’ he replied, ‘O ſevere judge! if I were guilty of the crimes which you impute to me. But I exult in the aſſurance, that on a moment's reflection, you will yourſelf acquit me of them.’

If our marriages are contrary to nature, how could mankind have been propagated from one ſtock? And [178] where did the ſons of the firſt pair find wives, if they wedded not their ſiſters? The prejudice inſtilled againſt them in infancy, by other nations, from motives unneceſſary to us, whoſe virtue requires not ſuch a guard, to prevent the intercourſe of conſanguinity from being abuſed to gratify impure deſire, is miſtaken for the voice of nature, whom we force not back upon herſelf, but free from reſtraints, ſubmitted to by man alone, of all her various race.

More groundleſs ſtill is the accuſation of our worſhipping any other object than the Deity himſelf, the Author and Life of the univerſe, and all it contains.

We worſhip not his creatures; we worſhip him in them. We worſhip him in the ſun, as the moſt glorious of his works, the fountain of that heat by which he animates all nature! We worſhip him in fire, as the ſubſtitute of the [179] ſun, the vehicle in which heat is intruſted to our own management for the uſes of life; and we keep that fire always alive, in teſtimony of our gratitude for his ſupporting our lives by it; and as a memorial to him to continue that ſupport.

Never has man fallen into ſo groſs error, as to direct his worſhip ultimately to the works of his own hands, though the preſumption of ignorance hath often accuſed him of it.

Adieu, O young man! Learn to judge leſs precipitately; and may the Deity, whom all the world unites in adoring, though under different ſymbols, guide your ſteps in ſafety.

It was ſome time before Togrul recovered from the ſurpriſe with which this defence of the Perſee ſtruck him. He examined it with candid attention, and [180] though he was far from thinking it ſatisfactory, it determined him never more to condemn any man for differing in opinion with him.

SECTION V.

THE ſenſations of his heart, as he approached Bagdat, are not to be deſcribed. On his arrival, he was met by an ambaſſador from the Khaliff, to enquire the cauſe of his coming in that hoſtile manner.

Though age, together with the change of his name, prevented Togrul from being known, he directly knew the ambaſſador to have been one of his moſt malignant enemies, and could not avoid feeling ſome natural emotions of reſentment; but he ſuppreſſed them inſtantly, having covenanted with his heart to keep the characters of Selim and Togrul perfectly diſtinct; nor to ſhew the leaſt recollection of the [181] former, till he ſhould have executed his preſent commiſſion.

He replied, therefore, that as hitherto no act of his had ſhewn any intention of hoſtility, ſo ſhould his future conduct be directed by that of the Khaliff, to whom alone he would communicate the motive of his coming.

This reply was by no means ſatisfactory to the ambaſſador. He would fain have himſelf entered into treaty with Togrul, alledging that the Khaliff's health was unequal to ſuch an interview at preſent; though were it even otherwiſe, it would be inconſiſtent with the character of a ſovereign to enter into the neceſſary altercations of buſineſs with a ſubject.

But theſe evaſions had no weight with Togrul. He anſwered peremptorily, that his commiſſion was to the Khaliff himſelf [182] in perſon, to whom if he had not admiſſion the next morning, he ſhould look upon the denial as a denunciation of war, and take his meaſures accordingly, without farther delay; adding, with a ſmile of contempt, that attention to the intereſts of his people could never be beneath the character of a prince, with whomſoever it might bring him into intercourſe; and that when the ſovereign could be preſent, the intervention of a ſervant was merely nugatory: ſaying which, he left the ambaſſador, without waiting for a reply.

Though it was evident, that a war with Temugin muſt in the end prove fatal to the Khaliff, his viſier, who after the departure of Selim, had wreſted the whole power out of his hands, leaving him only the empty name of ſovereign, reſolved to bury himſelf under the ruins of his country, rather than admit an interview, the firſt conſequence of which he was conſcious would be his own depoſal.

[183]For this purpoſe, he formed the deſperate reſolution of making an aſſault upon the camp of Togrul that very night, flattering himſelf with hope of ſurpriſing him in the falſe ſecurity of peace; to confirm which, he ſent another embaſſy to inform him, that the Khaliff would ſee him the next morning.

But Togrul was too well experienced in the art of war to relax his care for a moment on any appearances. He anſwered the ambaſſadors, that he ſhould be ready to attend the Khaliff at the time appointed; and as ſoon as they were gone, proceeded to ſtation his guards, and put his camp in a proper ſtate of defence.

When the ſhades of night had covered the earth, Togrul retired to his tent; and falling upon his face, poured out his ſoul in grateful praiſe and adoration to him, who had protected him through the paſt [184] day, and implored a continuance of the ſame protection for that night.

Juſt as he had performed this ſacred duty, he was alarmed at a ſudden noiſe; when ſtarting up, he ſaw a ſtrange man, with a poniard in his hand, fallen on the floor of his tent.

Such a ſight required no explanation. Togrul inſtantly ſeized him, before he could riſe to execute his intent; and wreſting his poniard out of his hand, demanded who he was; and by what injury he had been provoked to attempt ſo nefarious a crime.

The aſſaſſin, in the natural impulſe of ſelf-preſervation, lifting up his hands and eyes, begged for mercy, which he did not even expect, offering to purchaſe his pardon by a diſcovery of the moſt immediate importance.

[185]Togrul, whoſe reſentment never laſted longer than the cauſe, bade the trembling wretch merit the mercy he implored, by a candid confeſſion of the motives to his guilt.

Theſe words giving him a ray of hope, the aſſaſſin, without heſitation, owned that he had been prompted to aſſaſſinate him by promiſes of large reward made to him by the viſier; and for that purpoſe had lingered behind the ambaſſadors, in whoſe train he came, till he found an opportunity of hiding himſelf in his tent, where, ſeeing him enter ſoon after, and proſtrate himſelf to pay his devotions, he had ſtepped forth from the place where he was concealed, and was advancing to perpetrate the deed, when his foot entangling in the fringe of the carpet, he fell at his length upon the floor; and then, as a farther plea for pardon, diſcovered the viſier's deſign of aſſaulting the camp that very night.

[186]This account was too ſtrongly confirmed, by the circumſtances in which the relator ſtood, to admit of doubt. Having offered a mental tribute of thankſgiving to heaven for ſo ſignal a preſervation, Togrul called to his attendants, and ordering them to guard the aſſaſſin, prepared inſtantly to avail himſelf of the information he had received.

For this purpoſe he ſummoned the ſeveral leaders of his troops, and unfolding the diſcovery which had been made to him, directed one of them to take a body of forces, and marching ſilently out of the camp, on the ſide fartheſt from the city, to fetch a circuit, ſo as to fall upon the enemy in the rear, as ſoon as they ſhould begin their attack upon the camp, where he ſhould be ready to give them a proper reception.

The ſoldiers of Temugin, who were always accuſtomed to the ſtricteſt diſcipline, [187] obeyed his orders without noiſe or confuſion; and the camp continuing as ſilent, as if buried in the profoundeſt ſleep, the enemy advanced to the attack with that ſecurity in which they had expected to have ſurprized him.

The event was ſoon determined. The aſſailants repulſed with vigour, and themſelves aſſailed at the ſame time, gave up the unequal conteſt, and endeavoured to ſave themſelves by a retreat into the city; but in vain. The greateſt part of them was cut off; and the victors entering with the few who eſcaped, made themſelves maſters of the place without reſiſtance.

SECTION VI.

[188]

THE fears of the inhabitants, in ſuch a ſituation, are not to be expreſſed. They expected nothing leſs than to be given up to all the outrages of war; but they were ſaved by the military ſkill, as much as by the mercy of their conqueror, who, knowing their numbers, would not drive them to deſpair. Having ſtopped the fury of his ſoldiers, he poſſeſſed himſelf of the gates, and all the places of ſtrength in the city; and placing guards to prevent any new attempts, reſtored all things to a ſtate of order and tranquillity.

As ſoon as the morning ſun aroſe, Togrul advanced with a body of his troops to the palace of the Khaliff. A recollection of former ſcenes ſwelled his heart for a moment; but he ſoon ſhook off ſuch ſoftneſs. Calling for the commander of the guard, he ordered him to go to the [189] Khaliff, and demand an interview, if he would avoid the conſequences of an immediate aſſault.

The grand viſier returned along with the officer, and after attempting to palliate the treachery he had been guilty of the night before, by laying the attack of the camp to the charge of the ungovernable populace, deſired that Togrul would accompany him to the Khaliff, who, he ſaid, expected him in the divan; but Togrul, inſtead of making him any reply, gave a ſignal to his guards, who inſtantly ſeized him, before he could attempt to eſcape.

An act of ſuch ſeeming violence naturally threw all the citizens into the greateſt conſternation; but Togrul ſoon eaſed them of their fears. Waving his hand to demand ſilence, he declared aloud that none but the guilty ſhould ſuffer; nor even they, before the fulleſt proof of their [190] guilt, and by the authority of their ſovereign; ordering the viſier to be ſtrictly guarded, till he could be brought before him.

The tumult being thus appeaſed, Togrul ſent once more to requeſt the interview with the Khaliff, who immediately came to the gate of the palace to meet him.

The firſt ſight of his altered ſtate affected Togrul in ſo tender a manner, that it required all his preſence of mind to conceal it. Broken in ſpirit, and ſtooping under infirmities, he ſcarcely ſeemed the ſhadow of himſelf.

As ſoon as he approached, Togrul advancing in a reſpectful manner, informed him of the motive of his coming.

The Khaliff heard him with attention; and as ſoon as he had ended, ‘Thou [191] ſpeakeſt of peace,’ he anſwered, ‘but acteſt all the outrages of war. Haſt thou not taken our city by ſurprize, while we depended on the faith of thy words? And haſt thou not now ſeized our viſier, who came to conduct thee to us, according to thy deſire? Wherefore ſhouldſt thou continue the illuſion farther? Or, why mention a choice of peace, or war, to one who is already thy priſoner, and obliged to obey thy will?’

This pathetic expoſtulation opened to Togrul the ſtate of the Khaliff, whom he knew to be incapable of diſſimulation. He ſaw that he had been the ſlave of his viſier, who gave the ſanction of his ſovereign's name to his own iniquities.

Inſtead, therefore, of retorting the charge of violated faith, he informed the Khaliff, in terms of reſpect, of the conduct of his viſier, producing the aſſaſſin to prove his guilt, and referring the judgment to him.

[192]The diſcovery ſtruck all preſent with horror. 'Holy Prophet!' exclaimed the Khaliff, raiſing his hands and eyes to heaven, ‘to what misfortunes is the monarch ſubject, who ſeeth not with his own eyes, who truſts the reins of government out of his own hands for a moment?’

Then turning to the viſier, who ſtood trembling in the ſilence of ſelf-conviction, ‘Thy conqueror,’ he continued, ‘hath left thy fate to my diſpoſal; receive that, which I doubt not but thou haſt often merited before; for man ſinks not to ſuch conſummate guilt at once.’—Saying which, he made a ſignal to his guards, who inſtantly ſmote off the miſcreant's head.

Togrul, in the natural impulſe of reſentment, could not help feeling a momentary inclination to have made himſelf known to his enemy before his death; but [193] he inſtantly ſuppreſſed it, bluſhing at a thought ſo unworthy of him.

This ſacrifice being offered to juſtice, the Khaliff, addreſſing himſelf again to Togrul, ‘I have thus, perhaps for the laſt time,’ he reſumed, ‘performed the duty of a ſovereign in puniſhing guilt. It is now thine to diſpoſe of me, according to the commands of thy maſter. I here reſign my ſceptre into thine hands for him, and ſubmit to the will of heaven without repining.’

Togrul received the ſceptre, with an air of dignity ſuited to the character he repreſented, and holding it in his hand for a few moments, while the hearts of all preſent were burſting with ſuſpenſe, ‘Know, O ſupreme of all the followers of Mahomet!’ he ſaid, ‘that the juſtice of Temugin is equal to his power. He deſires to conquer only for the benefit of mankind; nor doth he ever dethrone [194] the ſovereign, whom he finds worthy to rule. The errors which incurred his diſpleaſure proceeded from him to whom thou hadſt incautiouſly entruſted thy power, and are atoned by his death; receive therefore thy ſceptre again from his hands, and hold it more ſteadily in thine own for the future! Thou art from this hour the friend of Temugin.’

It is impoſſible to expreſs the effect of this ſublime moderation upon all who were preſent. The name of Temugin was borne to heaven in acclamations of gratitude and joy; nor was that of his ſubſtitute forgotten.

The feelings of the Khaliff were too big for utterance. He ſunk under the weight of his own gratitude. Proſtrating himſelf upon his face, he adored the ſovereign ruler of the univerſe for this inſtance of his divine favour; and then ariſing, payed [195] to Togrul the thanks due to that benevolent grace, by which he had even endeared the generoſity of his lord.

The terms of their accord were ſoon adjuſted. Temugin had required no advantages for himſelf. Togrul therefore only ſtipulated, that all under the power of the Khaliff ſhould be ſuffered to enjoy, unmoleſted, the common rights of humanity. That they ſhould worſhip the Deity in the manner ſeeming beſt to themſelves, and be ſafe from puniſhment and injury while they ſhould be free from guilt; and that the traveller, and the ſtranger who ſojourned in the land, ſhould meet equal juſtice and protection with the natives.

SECTION VII.

[196]

THE treaty being ratified with the proper ſolemnities, Togrul held it not neceſſary to maintain longer a reſerve, which nature had the greateſt difficulty to ſupport.

Advancing to the Khaliff, and regarding him with a tender aſpect, ‘Can it be poſſible,’ ſaid he, ‘that any change of character ſhould ſo ſoon have effaced from the mind of Naſſer the memory of his moſt faithful—?’

'Holy Prophet!' exclaimed the Khaliff, ſtarting at the well-known voice, now uttered in its native ſweetneſs, ‘whom do I hear?’—Then fixing his eyes eagerly upon him, 'It is he!' he continued, ruſhing into his arms, ‘it is Selim himſelf! my long-lamented, faithful Selim!’

[197]All, who heard not the words of the Khaliff, were ſtruck with ſurpriſe at ſuch a conduct. But when the cauſe of it was explained, when the citizens of Bagdat heard, that in their generous conqueror Togrul, they beheld their beloved viſier Selim, their gratitude and joy know no bounds. They flocked around him in raptures impoſſible to be repreſſed, bleſſing the happy day which had reſtored him once more to their ſight.

As ſoon as the firſt tranſports of their joy had ſubſided, Togrul departed for a few moments to lead his troops back to their camp, whither the Khaliff ſent them all manner of accommodations, in ſuch plenty as made them entirely forget the fatigues of their march, and mix with his ſubjects as one people.

Having ſettled every thing in proper order, Togrul returned to the Khaliff, [198] who expected him with the moſt ardent impatience.

The tenderneſs of their meeting, now freed from the reſtraint of obſervation, may be well conceived. Togrul gratified the curioſity of the Khaliff, by a recital of the incidents of his life, ſince his departure from Bagdat. On his explaining the reaſon of his having entered into the ſervice of Aladdin, the Khaliff could not ſuppreſs his reſentment. 'Holy Prophet!' he exclaimed, ‘to what impoſitions are princes ſubject?’

‘From the day you left me, never did a letter from you come to my ſight! Never did I even hear that you were living, till I was informed of your having quitted my ſervice for that of Aladdin, from motives of perſonal diſregard to me! But the traitors ſhall meet their due reward. The principal is already [199] puniſhed, though for another crime; but the reſt ſhall have their deaths embittered by your triumph over them.’

'O, vicar of Mahomet!' returned Togrul, ‘let not looſe your rage againſt thoſe who are ſo far beneath it. However baſe their intentions, the event was directed by the hand of heaven. Had I not been driven from your ſervice, by that appearance of your diſregard, I could not have been the fortunate inſtrument of this day's happineſs. Let them no more have influence in your councils; but let that, and the conſciouſneſs of their guilt, be their only puniſhment for this crime. For me, I never will triumph over a fallen foe.’

Togrul devoted the remainder of that day to the re-eſtabliſhment of the Khaliff's government, in ſuch a manner as ſhould promiſe a continuance of his preſent happineſs. He was delivered from the moſt [200] ſevere of all tyrannies, that of his own ſervants. All who had abuſed his power were given up to juſtice, and their wealth divided among thoſe, who had ſuffered under their iniquitous oppreſſion.

SECTION VIII.

THE ſpirits of the Khaliff being unequal to ſuch long-continued exertion, Togrul left him to his reſt; and was returning to his camp, when he was ſurpriſed to find himſelf ſtopped by a Faquir, who, falling at his feet, embraced his knees, in an agony of joy, which deprived him of the power of utterance.

But Togrul was not long at a loſs to account for his emotions. At the firſt caſt of his eye, his heart acknowledged his faithful attendant Achmet, whoſe loſs, when he was ſeized in the camp of Mohammed, had given him ſo much grief.

[201]No change of condition can alter the ſentiments of a generous heart. Togrul raiſing him from the ground, and embracing him tenderly, bade him dry his tears, and come to his camp, where all his troubles ſhould find an end.

'Lord of my ſoul's attachment,' anſwered Achmet, ‘my troubles ended when I heard your name. But think not of me; one, much more worthy of your care requires your inſtant attendance. A friend, once juſtly dear to your heart, lives, but in hope of embracing you again; to conclude in that happineſs, a life worn out in all the miſeries of oppreſſion. If the name of Obeidah ſtill lives in your memory; if he yet holds a place in your eſteem, O haſte to calm the emotions with which his heart is burſting, till he enfolds you in his arms!’

[202]Starting at the name; ‘And doth he live! My moſt-reſpected, beſt-loved friend and benefactor!’ returned Togrul. ‘I will go to him this inſtant; nor ſhould have waited to be called, but that I thought his virtues had long ſince received their reward; that he was numbered with the happy, in the life which never ends. Lead me to his palace, this inſtant!’

‘Alas, my lord!’ replied Achmet, ‘the palace of Obeidah hath long been exchanged for a priſon. You muſt ſummon all your fortitude to ſupport the ſight of his preſent fallen eſtate. But let us haſten to him. He numbers every moment of our delay by a pang of miſery.’

It is impoſſible to expreſs what Togrul felt at this repreſentation. He bade Achmet proceed; and following him, in [203] ſilence, mourned in his ſoul for the ſufferings of his friend.

Apprehenſion, which uſually doubles every evil of life, here fell ſhort of the reality. On entering the priſon, he ſtarted back in horror, to ſee his friend and benefactor, the good viſier, who had firſt made him known to the Khaliff, lying on the bare floor, loaded with chains.

Achmet had cautioned him not to make himſelf too ſuddenly known to Obeidah, for fear of the effects of ſurpriſe, upon an heart already ſtretched to burſting; but nature could not be reſtrained. The moment he ſaw him, he ruſhed forward, and throwing himſelf on the floor beſide him, raiſed up his aged head, and laying it in his boſom, exclaimed, ‘O my friend! O Obeidah! My friend! My friend!’

Obeidah did not require to be told, by whoſe arms he was embraced. ‘O Selim!’ [204] he replied, ‘O ſon of Abudah! Though my eyes can no longer be bleſſed with thy ſight, my heart tells me it is my friend.’

Achmet, in the mean time, ſummoned the keeper of the priſon to take off Obeidah's chains; but the loyal old man would not permit him. ‘Theſe chains,’ ſaid he, ‘were put on me in the name of Naſſer; and by his orders only will I ſuffer them to be taken off. Never yet have I violated his authority; nor will I begin now.’

Togrul would not contradict a loyalty which he revered, and whoſe obſervance could add but a few minutes to the ſufferings of his friend. He therefore inſtantly ſent one of his attendants to the Khaliff, to acquaint him with all theſe circumſtances, and requeſt his order for the diſcharge of Obeidah.

[205]While they waited for the return of the meſſenger, Togrul could not forbear expreſſing his aſtoniſhment at the Khaliff's treating his moſt faithful ſervant in ſo cruel a manner; adding, with a tone of ſeverity, that if he had known he was capable of ſuch a groſs abuſe of his power, he ſhould not have been ſo haſty in reinſtating him in it.

The loyal heart of Obeidah could not bear to hear his ſovereign loaded with ſo injurious a charge. ‘Take care, O my ſon!’ ſaid he, ‘nor let thy tongue take liberty with the choſen of the Lord. Though my ſufferings were inflicted in his name, they proceeded not from him. Too well I know that he ſuffered himſelf, under the tyranny by which I was oppreſſed.’

On Togrul's expreſſing aſtoniſhment, almoſt to doubt, at what he heard, Obeidah informed him, that immediately after [206] his departure from Bagdat, to join the armies of Aladdin, his enemies preſuming upon the eaſy temper of Naſſer, who, neglecting the cares of government, had given himſelf up entirely to the cultivation of thoſe amuſements of an idle mind, which the vanity of their profeſſors have dignified with the pompous title of the finer arts, had, by inſenſible degrees, wreſted the royal power out of his hands, and covered their own nefarious crimes under the ſanction of his name; in which they at length proceeded to ſuch an height, that on his own conſtantly oppoſing them in the divan, and labouring to open the Khaliff's eyes, they threw him into this priſon, where, without reſpect to his age, his innocence, or the exalted office, which he had ſo long filled with honour, they had detained him ever ſince, loaded with chains, in the manner he then was.

Before Togrul had time to reply, a noiſe at the door of the priſon announced [207] the arrival of the Khaliff, who running wildly up to the place, where Obeidah lay in the boſom of Togrul, 'Holy Prophet!' he exclaimed, ‘is it poſſible that ſuch iniquity could be perpetrated by man? O Obeidah! my faithful Obeidah! think not that thy ſovereign ever knew of thy ſufferings; ever could make ſo ungrateful a return for the ſervices of thy life. But thy wrongs and mine are avenged. Our better angel, our Selim hath ſet us both free; and we will live together henceforward to bleſs his name.’

This condeſcenſion, this goodneſs of his ſovereign was too much for the full heart of Obeidah to ſupport. He ſeized the hand of the Khaliff, and preſſing it to his breaſt, expired without a ſtruggle, in the exceſs of his honeſt joy.

The ſcene was too moving for humanity to bear. Togrul, raiſing the Khaliff from the dead body, upon which he had [208] fallen, led him to the door of the priſon, where they parted, unable either to ſpeak a word.

SECTION IX.

THE agitation of Togrul's mind was too violent to admit of ſleep. Having paid the pious tribute of a flood of tears to the memory of his friend, he called for Achmet, and deſired to be informed by what ſtrange fortune he had been led to Bagdat.

'The fortune of the poor,' replied Achmet, ‘is ſeldom diſtinguiſhed by any incidents worthy of recital. My diſtreſs, at your ſeparating yourſelf from me, in the camp of Mohammed, need not be deſcribed. I ſought you for ſeveral days with the moſt anxious diligence, till I could no longer hope to find you there.’

[209]

It then occurred to me, that yielding to the melancholy with which your ſoul was ſo heavily oppreſſed for the loſs of your father, you had taken this method of avoiding my too officious zeal, of which you often complained, and retired to give yourſelf up to the uninterrupted indulgence of your grief.

But my attachment could not bear the thoughts of deſerting you in ſuch a ſituation. I reſolved to find you out, if poſſible, and ſave you from yourſelf; from a deſpair unworthy of you. Where to ſeek you, was the difficulty.

At length, I recollected the pleaſure with which I had often heard you mention the friendſhip of Obeidah; and thought you might poſſibly have returned to him: at leaſt, it was the only place where I could ſee any hope of ſucceeding in my ſearch.

[210]I directly therefore left the camp, and came to this city, where on my enquiring for Obeidah, gracious heaven! what was my aſtoniſhment! my grief! to find the good old man juſt ſinking into his grave, under all the miſeries of impriſonment and want, without even the allegation of a crime.

On my mentioning your name, he ſeemed to forget himſelf for a few moments to enquire after you; rejoicing in your ſucceſs, and weeping for your miſfortunes.

My ſoul could not forſake virtue in ſuch diſtreſs. I devoted myſelf entirely to attending on one ſo dear to you, ſince I could not have the happineſs of finding yourſelf.

Aſſuming therefore this habit of a Faquir, I ſhared with him the ſuſtenance which I daily received from the hand of [211] charity, and enabled him to ſtruggle with his fate, till he ſunk under the happineſs, too ſuddenly accumulated upon him, by your arrival.

As ſoon as the firſt bluſh of morning had began to gild the firmament, Togrul returned to the Khaliff; and recommending to him once more to hold with ſteadineſs the ſceptre, which he had reſtored to his hand, began his march to rejoin Temugin, covered with the unfading laurels of a victory, which had made the vanquiſhed happy.

On his arrival at the camp, he preſented himſelf before the emperor, and gave him an account of his ſucceſs; when inſtead of the approbation, with the hope of which he had pleaſed himſelf, Temugin demanded ſternly, why he had given peace to the Khaliff, on ſuch eaſy terms, when he had had it in his power to have made him accede to whatever he thought proper.

[212]Much as Togrul was affected, at ſo unexpected a reproof, he was not abſent from himſelf. Falling at the emperor's feet, 'I gave him a good peace,' he anſwered, ‘O ſovereign of the world, becauſe I wiſhed to have it long, and faithfully preſerved. They, who puſh their advantages to extremity, deceive themſelves. A bad peace never laſts longer, than the neceſſity which made it be accepted.’

Temugin pauſed ſome moments, without making any reply; then ſoftening his look and accent, ‘Go,’ ſaid he, ‘and take order for the refreſhment of your troops. I will conſider theſe matters, at ſome other time.’

SECTION X.

[213]

THE conduct of Togrul, on this delicate occaſion, fixed him ſo firmly in the eſteem and confidence of Temugin, that he admitted him into his moſt ſecret councils; and delighted to do him honour.

Such favour was not beheld without envy; but the humility with which he bore his greatneſs, and the diſintereſted benevolence, that ruled his conduct, ſoon diſarmed its rage; and if it was not poſſible for the favourite of a prince to have a true friend, he had the happineſs, at leaſt, of having no enemies.

But this happineſs ſoon palled upon him; and he ſickened in that ſunſhine, for which all around him ſighed. ‘If I muſt not hope to find my father!’ would he often ſay to Achmet, in the [214] overflowing of his heart, ‘muſt I deſert my friends? Muſt I violate my faith to Himilco, who by this time expects my promiſed return? Muſt I leave his daughter a prey to the terrors, which hourly anticipate the miſery of that forlorn eſtate, in which the death of her father muſt leave her?—Forbid it heaven! But may he not be already dead? May not ſhe be, this moment, looking out with anxious impatience for my return; and juſtly accuſing me of the crueleſt neglect? I cannot bear the dreadful thought. If it is not in my power to avoid being unhappy; I will not aggravate my unhappineſs by conſcious baſeneſs. I will have the approbation of my own mind, at leaſt, to ſupport me.’

He would have thrown himſelf at the feet of Temugin, and beſought his permiſſion to depart; but the circumſtances of the time made the very thought a diſhonour, [215] honour, Gelaleddin having collected all his force, for one laſt ſtruggle with his fate: He reſolved therefore to exert every effort in order to accelerate an event, which alone delayed the accompliſhment of his only hope.

SECTION XI.

WHILE he was paying this painful tribute to honour, he happened, one day, to fall in with a body of Gelaleddin's troops, who were conducting that prince's houſhold to a place of ſafety, farther from the ſeat of the war.

Fluſhed with continued victory, and following a leader whom they loved, his ſoldiers ſoon overcame a ſervile and diſheartened band, who unattached to the charge they were to guard, thought only of ſecuring their own ſafety by flight.

[216]As the wars of Temugin were conducted on the principles of humanity and honour, Togrul gave orders, immediately after the victory, for ſending back the wives of Gelaleddin, without his even ſeeing them; when a rumour, that that prince was concealed among them, obliged him to deviate from his intended delicacy.

The alarm of the women on his entering the tent, in which they were, may well be conceived; but he ſoon pacified their fears, by aſſurances of reſpect and ſafety; and then informing them of the cauſe of his coming, requeſted that they would ſubmit to a ſearch, ſo indiſpenſible, by lifting up their veils.

Their compliance having ſhewn that the rumour was without foundation, Togrul was about to withdraw, when his eye was caught by a female ſlave, whoſe ſurpaſſing beauty, neither the meanneſs of her habit, nor the grief with which ſhe [217] appeared to be overwhelmed, beyond all the reſt, could hide. He gazed at her, for ſome minutes, in rapturous aſtoniſhment; till Achmet perceiving his ſituation, reminded him to retire, which he did in ſuch confuſion, that he forgot to give any orders for their departure.

Achmet beheld with joy the impreſſion, which the beauty of the ſlave had made upon Togrul; and reſolved to heighten it by every means in his power. He was truly attached to him; but as his own ſoul was fired with the ſtrongeſt ambition, he conſidered his deſign of retiring to Himilco, as a weakneſs unworthy of him; which this incident, if rightly improved, might happily enable him to prevent.

As ſoon as Togrul had diſpoſed his men properly for the night, he retired to his tent, where he gave himſelf up to the contemplation of the beauteous ſlave.

[218]While he was thus indulging himſelf in a pleaſure, of the tendency of which he was not aware, Achmet entered; and after ſome occaſional diſcourſe, aſked him ſlightly if he had obſerved a beautiful ſlave, who attended upon the wives of Gelaleddin.

The queſtion, even from one, with whom he lived in the moſt unreſerved familiarity, threw Togrul into evident confuſion. He heſitated ſome moments, before he could ſpeak, and then bluſhing, though unconſcious for what cauſe, anſwered, that it was impoſſible for any one, who was not blind, to have paſſed ſuch beauty unobſerved.

The manner in which he ſaid this, confirming Achmet's conjecture, he directly proceeded to feed the flame, which he ſaw kindled in the breaſt of Togrul, with the warmeſt deſcriptions of her beauty, and [219] alluſions to the pleaſure, which the poſſeſſion of it muſt beſtow.

Togrul, for the firſt time, liſtened to ſuch converſation, without diſlike. His virtue was forced to yield to an attack, in which nature herſelf took ſo ſtrong a part againſt it; and he ſunk inſenſibly into a ſoft intoxication, which drowned all remembrance of himſelf, and every purpoſe of his heart.

When Achmet had thus prepared him for his deſign, he aſked whether he had given orders for the departure of the wives of Gelaleddin? All the pleaſing hopes, with which Togrul had been ſo fondly feeding his paſſion, faded at theſe words. He turned pale; and fixing his eyes for ſome time upon the ground, at length, with an heavy ſigh, deſired Achmet to take upon him a care, which he found himſelf unable to execute.

[220]Achmet, who knew that the ſucceſs of his deſign depended on its being conducted with addreſs, reſolved to ſeem rather to follow, than lead him to the point he deſired; affecting therefore not to underſtand what he meant, he aſked, with a look of anxiety, if he had received any wound in the late battle, to which he had neglected applying proper remedies.

Deeply as Togrul was diſtreſſed, he could ſcarcely forbear ſmiling, at ſuch a miſtake. ‘No, my friend,’ he anſwered, ‘I have received no wound; but that which the beauteous ſlave hath inflicted on my heart; to which, I fear, it never will be in my power to apply any remedy.’

'And wherefore ſhould you fear that?' replied Achmet. ‘The wounds of love are, of all others, the moſt eaſy to be healed, where the object is in our poſſeſſion.’

[221]'But how is ſhe in my poſſeſſion?' returned Togrul. ‘Doth ſhe not belong to the houſhold of Gelaleddin? and muſt I not reſtore her to him? I dare not, I cannot violate the orders of Temugin: Orders founded on the moſt ſacred principles of virtue; and which my own ſoul holdeth in the higheſt honour.’

'How induſtrious,' ſaid Achmet, with a ſmile, ‘are we to torture, to deceive ourſelves? The orders of Temugin reſpect only the ſacred property of the marriage bed. Slaves are, by the univerſal laws of war, the captor's prize, the reward of valour, which Temugin never meant to deprive him of. Diſmiſs the wives of Gelaleddin with due reſpect; and he will never think your detaining a ſlave an invaſion of his right.’

[222]Though a propoſal, ſo favourable to his wiſhes, readily ſatisfied the ſcruples of Togrul, he had a reſpect to the appearance of virtue, a modeſty in his nature, which would not permit him to carry it openly into execution.

But Achmet was not at a loſs to ſurmount this difficulty. He counſelled Togrul to ſend away the women directly, with every mark of honour, under the conduct of a perſon in whom he could confide; and ſaid he would himſelf follow at the firſt dawn of the morning, as if he was going on ſome ſecret occaſion of the war, and bring the fair ſlave without any alarm, or its being even known for whom, to a neighbouring fortreſs, where Togrul might meet her in the evening; and indulge himſelf in her company for ſome days, as if he was only attending to the motions of the enemy; a purpoſe for which it was a proper place.

[223]Had not Togrul been blinded by his paſſion, he would have rejected with diſdain, a propoſal, founded on a neglect of his duty, though but for a moment: but ſuch was his infatuation, that he equally forgot what he owed to his own honour, and to the confidence of Temugin.

SECTION XII.

THE conflict in his mind, when Achmet departed, is not to be deſcribed. Though his paſſion had ſilenced the voice of reaſon, it had another antagoniſt to ſtruggle with, which was not ſo eaſily to be ſubdued. In ſpite of all his efforts to elude it, the remembrance of Himilco, and his daughter, would ever and anon force itſelf upon him; and damp his higheſt ardours. Every moment produced a new reſolution, which the next overturned, leaving him in the ſame fluctuation.

[224]Attachments of mere deſire loſe their force, when the object is no longer preſent. Every time he thought of the daughter of Himilco, his paſſion for the fair ſlave grew weaker; till, in the end, it entirely ſubſided, leaving no more trace behind than ruffles the boſom of a ſtream, into which ſome fragment of the rock hath newly fallen from the impending cliff.

He awoke, as from a troubled dream; and wondering at his own weakneſs, reſolved to wipe off the ſtain of it, by ſending back the fair ſlave the moment he ſhould arrive at the place, where he had appointed to meet Achmet. Nor would he even have gone thither, had he not thought that countermanding, without any viſible reaſon, the orders he had ſo lately given to his troops, would betray an unſteadineſs, that muſt lower him in their eyes.

[225]Exulting in this victory, he arrived at the fortreſs, where he no ſooner ſaw Achmet, than he commanded him to ſend back the ſlave that very night; declaring that he would not even ſee her.

Achmet, who read in his looks the ſtruggle in his heart, was more ſurprized than diſcouraged at this change of his reſolution; which he did not doubt but the ſight of the fair ſlave would ſoon alter, could he prevail upon him to ſee her.

Without ſeeming therefore to heſitate at paying obedience to his orders, he aſked him, with a diſcontented look, what reaſon he ſhould give her, for ſuch a diſappointment of thoſe hopes, with which he had taken ſo much pains to inſpire her.

Togrul, whoſe conqueſt over his paſſion was far from being ſo complete as he thought, could not forbear enquiring [...]gerly, what hopes he meant; to which [226] Achmet anſwered, in a tone of indifference, the hopes of his love, which he had ſo confidently aſſured her of, that he was utterly aſhamed to inform her of a change in his ſentiments, as unaccountable as it was ſudden.

Incapable of artifice himſelf, Togrul ſuſpected none in Achmet. He told him, with a ſigh, the reaſon of his ſending her back, acknowledging, at the ſame time, the pain which that reſolution had coſt him.

Achmet, who wanted not virtue, though his ſenſe of it was neither ſo extenſive nor ſo ſublime as that of Togrul, looked upon this as no more than a falſe refinement, to which it was his duty to open the eyes of his friend.

But as he was ſenſible, that it would be in vain to attempt reaſoning on ſuch a ſubject, he affected to approve the reſolution [227] Togrul had taken, and only deſired that he would himſelf acquaint the fair ſlave with the motive of it; a mark of attention which, he ſaid, would change her reſentment into reſpect of his conſtancy, the virtue deareſt to the ſex; adding, when Togrul ſeemed to heſitate, that ſurely he could not doubt his own reſolution ſo far, as to apprehend danger from ſo ſhort an interview; or aggravate the pain of her diſappointment, by ſuch an ungenerous inſtance of contempt, as to ſend her away without condeſcending even to ſee her.

This was an attack which Togrul could not reſiſt. His heart harboured not a ſentiment that was not truly generous; nor would he admit the appearance of a weakneſs of which he was not conſcious. He conſented therefore to ſee her, as ſoon as he ſhould have taken order for the diſpoſal of his troops, directing Achmet to prepare, in the mean time, for her departure.

SECTION XIII.

[228]

EVERY ſtep, as he approached her tent, encreaſed the emotions which the thought of this interview raiſed in his breaſt. He entered, trembling and irreſolute, where he found her ſitting on the ground, diſſolved in tears, and wailing herſelf in ſobs of woe.

The power of beauty, when aided by compaſſion, is irreſiſtible. He ſtopped ſhort, and gazing at her for ſome moments, turned to Achmet to learn the cauſe of her tears.

Achmet, who ſaw that the ſucceſs of his deſign depended on the improvement of the preſent moment, and ſcrupled not any means to accompliſh an end which he thought juſt, breathed a ſoft whiſper in his ear, that all her grief aroſe from his having informed her of Togrul's late reſolution [229] to ſend her back; and therefore adviſed him not to mention any thing of it, till ſhe ſhould be a little more compoſed.

Togrul's reſolution, which had begun to waver the minute he ſaw her, was totally overturned by theſe words. Every motive of honour and virtue, which had ſo lately ſwayed him, now gave place to his paſſion. He ruſhed forward, and throwing himſelf at her feet, attempted to ſooth her grief with profeſſions of love and vows of conſtancy.

But what was his diſappointment to find, that inſtead of appeaſing, this only encreaſed her diſtreſs. He pauſed for ſome minutes, utterly at a loſs what to conclude; then fixing his eyes paſſionately upon her, conjured her, in the tendereſt terms, to declare the cauſe of her affliction, and depend upon every relief in his power to procure.

[230]Moved by the manner in which he ſpoke, ſhe raiſed her head, and looking earneſtly at him, aſked how he, who had ſo lately torn her away from an huſband, whom ſhe dearly loved, could affect to be a ſtranger to the cauſe of her affliction.

Equally ſhocked and ſurpriſed at what ſhe ſaid, Togrul enquired haſtily who was her huſband? And upon her anſwering, Gelaleddin, demanded again, how ſhe came then to be clad in the habit of a ſlave? Whereupon ſhe informed him, that the wives of that prince not expecting ſuch generous treatment as they had experienced, ſhe, his moſt beloved, had aſſumed that diſguiſe, in order to ſave the honour of his name at leaſt, ſhould any violence be offered to her.

Togrul ſtood aghaſt! He ſaw the precipice over the verge of which he hung! He ſaw alſo the only way of eſcaping. It was painful; but it was indiſpenſible.

[231]The occaſion called forth all his virtue. He heſitated not a moment; but explaining the error, into which he had been led by her own precaution, removed all her apprehenſions, and dried her tears, by aſſuring her that ſhe ſhould be directly ſent back to her huſband ſafe, and unſolicited farther by an unhappy paſſion, which was not now more diſagreeable to her, than diſapproved by himſelf; and giving, in her preſence, the neceſſary orders to Achmet (who, terrified at the danger into which his too ſanguine zeal had unwillingly betrayed his friend, prepared to carry them into inſtant execution) hurried away from a ſcene, more diſtreſsful than he could ſupport.

Not that his diſtreſs was lighter, when he retired to his tent, and reflected on his late conduct. He looked back with horror to the manifold ruin which he had ſo narrowly eſcaped; nor did remorſe make the proſpect before him much leſs painful.

[232]Though error might ſeem to extenuate the crime of his attempt upon the wife of Gelaleddin, his intended infidelity to the daughter of Himilco, his intended neglect of duty to Temugin, admitted of no extenuation. He judged himſelf with ſeverity; but he ſunk not under that judgment.

Superior to that weakneſs, which inſtead of nobly endeavouring to repair a fault, gives itſelf up to fruitleſs wailing and ſelf-reproach, he reſolved to retrieve the day he had loſt to Temugin by ſome eminent ſervice; and then to expiate his crime againſt the daughter of Himilco, by a ſacrifice of every other hope to his love.

SECTION XIV.

[233]

THIS reſolution reſtored to his mind that virtuous ſerenity, which had been ſo dangerouſly interrupted by his late paſſion; if the remembrance of which would ſometimes return, its only effect was to ſtimulate his efforts to make atonement for it.

Nor were theſe efforts unſucceſsful. Among the chieftains of Temugin, famed as they juſtly were in war, Togrul ſoon diſtinguiſhed himſelf, by abilities which proved him to be the proper antagoniſt of Gelaleddin. Equals in activity and enterprize, they exhauſted, againſt each other, every reſource of the military art; while experience viewed their emulation with wonder and delight.

But the ſuperior power of Temugin at length decided a conteſt, which virtue would have ſupported; and Gelaleddin [234] found himſelf pent in between armies, which it was in vain for him to attempt reſiſting, and the mighty river of Indus.

He inſtantly ſaw all the ſeverity of his fate; that nothing remained for him, but to yield himſelf captive, or die in the defence of his liberty. The choice, with him, admitted not a moment's pauſe. Animating his faithful followers by his example, he bravely continued the fight, marking every ſtep of his retreat with the dead bodies of his boldeſt foes, till he was forced to the very brink of the river, where, looking round him for a moment, and ſeeing almoſt all his people ſlain, he formed the noble reſolution of attempting to ſave himſelf for an happier day, when heaven might be more propitious to him; and inſtantly plunged into the river, which rolled in ſuch a torrent, that the greatneſs of the danger prevented his being purſued.

[235]While he was gloriouſly ſtruggling thus with fate, Togrul, whoſe efforts had principally driven him to this extremity, was ruſhing forward to plunge in after him, when he was ſtopped by Temugin, who honoured ſuch virtue, even in a foe. ‘Remember,’ ſaid he, ‘the day in which you eſcaped from the rovers in the deſarts of Africa; and imitate that generoſity, which you have yourſelf experienced. Leave this gallant prince to his fortune. This is a ſon worthy of his father. Happy is he who hath ſuch children!’

Togrul was affected in the ſtrongeſt manner by theſe words. Though in the headlong fury of the battle he would have purſued Gelaleddin; to have defeated ſo noble an effort for the preſervation of his liberty, when he could reſiſt no longer, would have ſtung his generous heart with incurable remorſe. The very thought overwhelmed him with ſhame; as his being [236] ſo happily prevented filled him with joy.

The total defeat of Gelaleddin having put an end to the war, Togrul thought himſelf now at liberty to fulfil his reſolution, by retiring to Himilco in the deſart.

For this purpoſe, he threw himſelf at the feet of Temugin the next morning, and pouring out the gratitude of his heart for all the favours he had received from him, humbly beſought his permiſſion to depart, and accompliſh the fate ordained for him by heaven.

Temugin, to whom the virtues of Togrul had endeared him, no leſs than his valour, heard, with concern, a requeſt, with which his regard would not permit him to comply. Though he thought the ſubject of too tender a nature for him to interfere with directly, he was not at a loſs to diſcover his motive for deſiring to depart, [237] nor whither he intended to bend his way, as he remembered the love which he had expreſſed for the daughter of Himilco, and his promiſe that he would return to her; a promiſe which he meant not obliging him to violate, but only to defer its performance to a fitter ſeaſon.

Expoſtulating with him, therefore, in terms of eſteem, on his want of attachment, which alone, he alledged, could prompt him to ſeek elſewhere a fortune, that in his ſervice prevented his purſuit, he told him, that he could not conſent to his departure, till he ſhould have accompliſhed certain matters which he had in contemplation; after which, if he perſiſted in his preſent purpoſe, he would not only give him his conſent, but alſo the aſſiſtance neceſſary for executing it with happy effect.

This promiſe, by which Togrul ſaw, that the emperor was no ſtranger to his [238] intention, over-paid the delay on which it was founded, by hopes he had never ventured to indulge before. He embraced the knees of his generous benefactor, in a tranſport of grateful joy, which the fulneſs of his heart left him not the power of uttering.

End of the THIRD BOOK.

THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS. BOOK THE FOURTH.

[]

SECTION I.

TEMUGIN, having thus compleated the conqueſt of Khouareſm, iſſued a mandate to all the princes, who governed the ſeveral kingdoms of his boundleſs empire, to meet him with all their houſeholds, in the plains of Karakathai, where he intended to relax from the fatigues of war, [240] and devote one whole year to the pleaſures of the chace, while he married his ſons, and regulated the various forms of government in his dominions; before he proceeded to farther conqueſts, which he had in contemplation.

The preparations which he ordered to be made for this ſolemnity, at which the greater part of human kind were to aſſiſt, were ſuited to the magnificence of his ſpirit, and the greatneſs of his power. Nothing, which nature could ſupply, or art deviſe, was wanting to make the entertainment equal to the occaſion.

The morning before Temugin propoſed repairing to the plains of Karakathai, he ſent for Togrul into his tent, and regarding him with a look of favour, 'Togrul,' ſaid he, ‘I am now going to give you a mark of my confidence, which will put your abilities to the ſtricteſt proof.’

[241]

There is a country in the mountains of Curdiſtan, called Betlis, the people of which boaſt of having repelled all attempts made to ſubdue them; and do, at this day, live in defiance of every foreign power. It is neceſſary to my honour to put an end to this boaſt. While I march towards Karakathai, take you the troops under your command. Reduce this people to obedience; and bring their king to receive his fate from my word. No ſovereign ſhall rule, but by my permiſſion.

I know your valour; but that, tho' the firſt, is not the only virtue required in the leader of an army. Activity, vigilance, and circumſpection will be no leſs neceſſary to you on this occaſion.

Aſtyages, who reigns in Betlis, is an experienced warrior; and his people are an hardy race, who, ſtrangers to the wants of luxury, as having no commerce [242] with other nations, are ſatisfied with the ſcanty ſubſiſtence which their labour extorts from a ſterile ſoil; and will fight with advantage, in a country full of faſtneſſes, known only to themſelves.

Though Togrul was far from approving the motive of this war, his heart was not inſenſible to the glory which it opened him an opportunity of acquiring. Bowing himſelf, therefore, in grateful aſſent, he proceeded directly to execute a charge which did him ſo much honour.

As ſoon as he drew near to the country, which he was ſent to conquer, he called together the ſeveral leaders of his troops, and laid them under the ſtricteſt injunctions to reſtrain the ſoldiers from every act of rapine, cruelty, and oppreſſion, which in the nature of their duty could poſſibly be avoided. ‘Though they are our enemies,’ he ſaid, ‘let us not forget that they are men, as well as we! Let us [243] ſpare the country, which is to belong to our ſovereign.’

This reſtraint, at the ſame time that it ſaved the country from devaſtation, ſaved alſo the forces under his command from all thoſe dangers which await an army broken looſe from diſcipline, and ſcattered over an enemy's country in ſearch of plunder.

He penetrated into the heart of the land, without meeting any misfortune, though the king watched his ſteps, with a powerful army, ready to take any opportunity of attacking him to advantage; as he was unwilling to riſque the fate of his country, on a battle, upon equal terms.

Finding, however, all his ſchemes defeated by the vigilance and circumſpection of Togrul, and apprehenſive that his own ſoldiers might be diſpirited at ſeeing him ſo cautious, Aſtyages, at length, reſolved [244] to truſt all to the valour of his people, and the juſtice of his cauſe; and drawing all his forces together, waited for the enemy in a place which defended the approach to his capital.

This was directly the point to which Togrul had all along wiſhed to lead him. He inſtantly diſpoſed his troops in order of battle, and led them to the charge in perſon.

The conflict was ſuch as might be expected from men animated by the ſtrongeſt motives. The ſoldiers of Temugin were ſo accuſtomed to conquer, that they looked upon themſelves as invincible; while the men of Betlis, who knew that they fought for the deareſt bleſſings of life, exerted themſelves, every one, as if the event depended upon his ſingle arm.

SECTION II.

[245]

WHILE the battle raged thus, with equal fury, the adverſe leaders, who flew from place to place to enforce the execution of their orders, by their own example chanced to meet.

Knowing each other by the number of their attendants, and animated by an equal paſſion for glory, they advanced, as by conſent, to decide the conteſt, making a ſignal to their men to draw back; who readily obeyed, willing to commit the fortune of the day to their reſpective valour.

Nor was their confidence deceived on this important occaſion. Every effort, which art and courage could ſuggeſt to ſtrength, was exerted ſo equally by each combatant, that it was impoſſible to form any judgment of the event.

[246]While every heart panted thus in anxious expectation and ſuſpenſe, the king of Betlis, provoked at a reſiſtance which he had never met before, ſmote Togrul ſuch a blow, as cleft his helmet in twain; which, falling to the ground, left his head unarmed; at the ſame time, that his own ſword, unequal to the force, broke ſhort in his hand.

Togrul recovering from the ſtroke, which had ſtunned him for a moment, was preparing to return it on his defenceleſs enemy, when his ear was ſtruck by the voice of a man, who throwing himſelf between the combatants, exclaimed, ‘Hold, O Selim! nor ſtain thy ſoul with the blood of thy father.’

Starting at the well-known voice, Togrul dropped his ſword, which hung over the head of his adverſary, and looking eagerly at the perſon who ſpoke, inſtantly knew the face of Abudah, who, by this [247] time, had thrown off his helmet, and fallen on his knees before him.

The piety of Togrul could not bear ſuch a ſight. He ran, and raiſing him from the ground, threw himſelf at his feet, and embraced his knees in tranſports of pious joy.

Tenderly as the heart of Abudah felt this endearment, the time was too important for him to indulge it. Turning haſtily from Togrul, 'There pay thy duty!' ſaid he, pointing to the king, who ſtood loſt in wonder at what he ſaw. ‘That, O Selim! is thy father.—O king of Betlis, behold thy ſon!’

The king no ſooner heard theſe words, than yielding to the impulſe of nature, he ruſhed forward, and throwing himſelf upon the neck of Togrul, bedewed his boſom with tears, ſobbing, ‘O my ſon! have I [248] at length found thee? O Arſaces! My ſon! My ſon!’

Though Togrul felt the tenderneſs of this embrace, he was unable to return it with equal warmth. He knew no father but Abudah; at the ſame time, he knew that Abudah was incapable of aſſerting any thing but truth. He was utterly at a loſs.—In the mean while, the chieftains of both armies, ſtruck with aſtoniſhment, gathered promiſcuouſly around them, to learn the cauſe of this affecting ſcene.

Abudah ſaw the importance of the moment. 'O ſoldiers of Temugin!' ſaid he, mounting upon a rock, which happened to be near, and ſpreading abroad his arms, ‘and you men of Betlis, behold and revere the myſterious ways of that power which rules the world! The leader of the armies of Temugin is ſon to the king of Betlis. Heaven, which permitted them to prove their valour, in [249] your ſight, this day, hath diſcovered them to each other, in time to prevent the crime of parricide, and put an end to this groundleſs war. Let us not therefore preſume to oppoſe its ſacred will.’

The manner in which he uttered theſe words enſured their effect. His eyes, his voice, his geſtures, ſeemed to ſpeak immediate inſpiration. All heard him with reverential awe, and waited but the word of their leaders to pay obedience to what they thought a divine command.

The king and Togrul had, by this time, recovered themſelves ſufficiently to attend to their ſituation. Advancing therefore to their reſpective armies, they unfolded this extraordinary event; and declared their intentions of obeying the will of heaven, ſo plainly ſignified; and extending to their people that peace, which nature had eſtabliſhed between themſelves.

[250]Nor was this difficult to be effected. The manner in which the war had been conducted, had prevented any perſonal animoſity, by preventing private injuries. It had rather been a conteſt for glory, than a war.

SECTION III.

AS ſoon as they had drawn off their forces, and taken proper care to prevent any accidental diſagreement between them, they repaired to a tent, which Abudah had cauſed to be pitched in the midſt between the two armies, equally anxious to concert ſuch meaſures for confirming the peace, thus happily commenced, as ſhould meet the approbation of Temugin, without derogating from the honour of Aſtyages, or injuring the intereſts of his people.

As ſuch an interview muſt neceſſarily open all the tenderneſs of nature, it was [251] ordered that no perſon ſhould be preſent beſide Abudah, who waited to receive Togrul; and before the arrival of his father, relieve his heart from the ſuſpenſe with which it muſt be tortured, by an event equally intereſting and ſtrange.

As ſoon as Togrul entered the tent, he ran to Abudah, and claſping him in his arms, ‘O father of my heart!' ſaid he, unfold the myſtery of my fate; nor keep me longer in a ſuſpenſe, which my ſoul is unable to ſupport. Who am I?— How can I be other than thy ſon?— And yet, I bluſh to own, that my heart feels a divided love; a reſpect, which it never felt before.’

'Son of my ſoul!' anſwered Abudah, as he kiſſed away the tear which rolled down the cheek of Togrul, ‘reſtrain thine impatience to a more proper moment. Thou oweſt thy being to Aſtyages. He is thy father. How the precious charge [252] of thine education came to be entruſted to me, muſt be reſerved to an hour of more leiſure; as well as a recital of the occurrences, through which heaven hath led thee to this happy period. At preſent, other matters demand our attention.’

Aſtyages entering as he ſpoke theſe words, Togrul yielding to the impulſe of nature, ran to him, and crying, ‘O my father! my father!’ threw himſelf at his feet, and embraced his knees, unable to ſay more; while Aſtyages wept upon his head in extaſy, too big for utterance.

When they had indulged nature thus, for a few bliſsful minutes, Abudah, who was more preſent to himſelf, though his feelings were ſcarcely leſs lively, reminded them of the more immediate cauſe of their meeting.

When Togrul had repeated the charge, given to him by Temugin, Aſtyages [253] muſed for ſome moments; then with a look ſerenely reſolute, ‘My ſon!’ ſaid he, ‘I trace the hand of heaven in all theſe events, and will not preſume to ſet myſelf in oppoſition to it.’

The emperor hath commanded thee to reduce this country to obedience, and bring me to receive my fate from his word. His command ſhall be fulfilled. You ſhall appoint Abudah to govern our country, in his name, while I will go with you to him, and truſt my fate to heaven.

I had flattered myſelf with the hope of expelling the invaders of my country by force, or dying honourably in its defence; but theſe hopes are now changed.

As ſuch a propoſal could admit of no difficulty, peace was directly announced to both armies, who embraced it with equal pleaſure; having made too ſtrong a proof [254] of each other's valour, to deſire a continuance of the war.

When Togrul had adjuſted every thing for beginning his march the next morning to Karakathai, where he was to join Temugin, he returned to the tent, where he found his father expecting him, in company with Abudah.

After ſome time given up to mutual endearments, ‘I will leave you for a few moments, my ſon!’ ſaid Aſtyages, ‘while I go to make ſome preparations for my journey. The father of ſo large a family, hath many things to ſettle, before he can leave it. Abudah will, in the mean time, inform you of matters, which you muſt naturally be deſirous to know.’

SECTION IV.

[255]

THE anxiety, evident in the looks of Togrul, made it not neceſſary for him to claim the performance of this promiſe.

‘O ſon of my affection! thou beloved of my ſoul!’ ſaid Abudah, as ſoon as Aſtyages withdrew, ‘I am now to reſign an honour, of which I am unworthy, and exchange the name of father for that of friend; a ſecret, my having concealed which from you ſo long, hath coſt my heart many a painful hour.’

You muſt remember my having often told you, that the birth of a ſon deprived me of a wife, whom I had wedded in a foreign land. That you were that ſon, it was natural for you to ſuppoſe, from the care which I beſtowed upon [256] your education; but alas! I loſt both wife and ſon together.

The reaſon why I never informed you in what country I had met with this misfortune, was my fear of your conceiving a deſire to ſee it, before the time appointed by your father ſhould be fulfilled.

My wife was the ſiſter of Aſtyages, whoſe friendſhip prompted him to beſtow her upon me; as it afterwards did, upon her death, to entruſt me with the precious charge of you, his only ſon, then an infant.

"How various are the griefs," he ſaid to me once, when he came to conſole me in the days of my affliction, ‘which prey upon the wretched heart of man! Thou mourneſt the death of a ſon, while my anxiety for the fate of one, who is yet alive, maketh me equally unhappy.’

[257]

Hitherto hath this people defended their liberty againſt the ravagers of the earth; and while I live, I truſt that heaven will enable me to preſerve the ineſtimable bleſſing to them. But I tremble to look forward. The very peace which we now enjoy, which I have earned by ſo many difficulties and dangers, alarms my fears.

Trained in the ſchool of adverſity, I am prepared to ſtruggle with it, whenever I may be aſſailed. But will my ſon have the ſame ability, without having the ſame opportunity of acquiring it? Will not eaſe and idleneſs debilitate his body? Will not flattery corrupt his mind?

I ſtrove to remove his fears, by urging that it was in his own power to obviate thoſe evils, by taking care that his ſon received a proper education.

[258] ‘It is not poſſible,’ he replied, ‘for me to attend to that care. The cares of ſovereignty are a ſufficient weight, without the addition of another, ſcarcely leſs weighty. Though even if I could devote myſelf to his education, I cannot hope for the ſucceſs you mention. He would be told that he was born to reign; and that would defeat all my endeavours.’

‘In a word, there is but one way to remove my fears; and that depends upon you. I will not injure your friendſhip by a parade of aſking that which I know you will perform. You muſt take my ſon with you to your native country; and educate him there as if he were your own. Thus will he become worthy to wear the crown of his anceſtors; and be able to fulfil my hopes of defending the liberties of his people.’

[259] ‘When you ſhall think him qualified to ſhare the weight of a crown with me, bring him home. Till then, let him remain with you; and even unto death, ſhould he not prove worthy of me. I will ſupply you with wealth ſufficient to make proviſion for his ſupport.’

How I executed this important charge, you want not to be told. To conceal your lineage more effectually, I even changed your own illuſtrious name of Arſaces, for that which had been borne by my father. Happy! thrice happy am I to reſtore it to you now: To reſtore to your father a ſon worthy of him: worthy of the ſacred race of Cyrus, from whom you derive your deſcent: a race, who through all the wars, which have ſhaken the earth, from the day, whereon Aſcander overturned the throne of Darius, have to this hour preſerved their royalty undiminiſhed, in theſe mountains; whither Arſinoe, ſiſter to that ill-fated [260] monarch, fled with her infant ſon Hyſtaſpes, whoſe virtues humanized the fierce inhabitants, and influenced them to chuſe him for their king.

SECTION V.

I UPBRAID you not with a deſertion, to which I plainly ſee, you were directed by heaven. As ſoon as I awoke that morning, my heart miſgave me, when you anſwered not to my call. I aroſe to ſeek you, but in vain. The diſappearance of your horſe, and your ſword, too well convinced me, that you were gone beyond my reach.

I muſt not attempt to deſcribe to you, what I felt at that thought. Though hopeleſs of your return, I waited for one miſerable moon, if poſſibly your mind might change, and a ſenſe of filial duty and affection lead you back to me.

[261]At the expiration of that time, I put my ſandals on my feet, girt my loins, and with my ſtaff in my hand, ſet out to bring the melancholy tidings to your father. I would have attempted to ſeek for you; but you had turned the ſecreſy, which I had ſo often inculcated to you, againſt myſelf. You had never dropped a ſyllable, which could direct my ſearch.

Your father felt the loſs as a man; but ſupported it with the fortitude worthy of him. He even condeſcended to offer me conſolation; and acquitted me of all blame, by referring your conduct to the guidance of heaven.

This awoke an hope of that happineſs which your return hath thus fulfilled. All my cares, all my griefs, are now over payed; and I am ready to die contented, whenever the angel of death ſhall call upon me.

[262]But, O my ſon! through what ſurpriſing ſcenes muſt heaven have led your ſteps? My heart pants—And behold, your father comes burſting with equal impatience, to hear the intereſting tale.

Aſtyages entering as he ſpoke theſe words, 'I reſtore to thee, O king,' continued Abudah, leading Arſaces to him, ‘thy ſon, no longer Togrul, nor Selim, but Arſaces, a genuine ſcyon of the ſacred ſtock of Cyrus. O, Arſaces, behold a father worthy of thee!’

'O my ſon! My father!' they exclaimed with one voice, as they ran into each other's arms, while Abudah, unable to ſpeak, gave vent to his joy in a flood of tears.

When they had payed this tender tribute to nature, Aſtyages hinted to his ſon a deſire to hear the incidents of his life, ſince his departure from Abudah. Arſaces [263] inſtantly obeyed, and placing himſelf between them, related, in brief, the wonderous tale.

As ſoon as he had concluded, ‘Could a particular inſtance be wanting in proof of that, which all the works of nature prove,’ ſaid Abudah, ‘thy life, O Arſaces, affords the ſtrongeſt conviction, that the ways of heaven are always conducted with wiſdom, goodneſs, and juſtice, however inſcrutable to the feeble powers of human reaſon. Let us therefore adore that Being, who ordereth every thing for the beſt; nor perplex ourſelves with doubts, which only involve us in deeper darkneſs.’

SECTION VI.

[264]

ARSACES began his march the next morning, accompanied by his father. On his arrival at the camp of Temugin, he haſted to his preſence, that he might himſelf deliver the firſt tidings of theſe wonderful events.

Proſtrating himſelf before his throne, ‘May the king of men,’ ſaid he, ‘live for ever. Thy commands have been executed in their fulleſt extent. The country of Betlis pays obedience to Temugin; and its king is come to receive his fate from thy word. But in the king of Betlis, O behold the father of Togrul! The father of him, who in thy ſervice hath unknowingly lifted his ſword againſt the author of his life.’

Temugin, who thought the enterprize [265] upon which he had ſent Togrul, too difficult to have been accompliſhed in ſo ſhort a ſpace, was utterly at a loſs to conceive the meaning of what he heard. He demanded therefore an explanation of circumſtances, which appeared ſo extraordinary to him.

As ſoon as Arſaces had recited the whole, the emperor pauſing a few moments, as loſt in thought, ‘I adore the ways of heaven,’ ſaid he; ‘and war not with its will. King of Betlis,’ he continued, ‘on what terms art thou willing to receive the reſtitution of thy crown this day, from my hands?’

'Conqueror of the world,' anſwered Aſtyages, ‘it ill befitteth me to make terms with him into whoſe power I have willingly ſurrendered myſelf. If thou wilt permit me to ſtudy the happineſs of my people; and preſerve them in the [266] enjoyment of thoſe laws, which their fathers have handed down to them, we will render thee, with fidelity, all the ſervices which can be expected from men who are free. If thou requireſt more, my promiſe ſhall not deceive thee.’

‘For know, O Temugin, that though I have the power to commit my own liberty to thy diſpoſal, I have none over that of the meaneſt ſubject, whom I lately governed; every one of whom, while he pays obedience to the laws, is ſafe under their protection; and would with readineſs ſacrifice his life in their defence.’

'We will put their virtue to the trial;' replied Temugin. ‘My will ſhall be circumſcribed by no laws. In the mean time, return thou in ſafety to their aſſiſtance. I ſcorn to take advantage of thy confidence.’

[267]'O ſovereign of the world,' exclaimed Arſaces, throwing himſelf again at the feet of Temugin, and embracing his knees, ‘what is to be the fate of the captive of thy power, the ſlave of thy goodneſs? Can I fight againſt the author of my being? Can I fight againſt him, whoſe beneficence hath made that being a bleſſing to me? O divide not duties, which heaven hath united! nor ſet my ſoul at war againſt itſelf! My father will teach his people to pay you the higheſt ſubjection, which man can pay to man, without derogating from the dignity of their common nature.— O my father, ſubmit yourſelf to the power of him who rules the world. He will not deprive your ſubjects of liberty, who gave it to your ſon.’

The agony, in which Arſaces ſpoke theſe words, affected all who were preſent. The generous heart of Temugin melted in compaſſion. ‘Ariſe,’ ſaid he, ‘O ſon, [268] worthy of thy father; and be happy! And thou, O Aſtyages, return to thy kingdom in peace; and rule thy people according to the rectitude of thine heart. Happy art thou in being worthy to have ſuch a ſon.’

Every one was filled with joy, by theſe words. Even envy and ambition forgot themſelves, for ſome moments, and joined in the general acclamations, which raiſed the name of Temugin to heaven.

Aſtyages, who had hitherto ſupported his royal character, could not reſiſt the tender impulſe of his gratitude. ‘Thou haſt conquered, O Temugin,’ ſaid he, ‘thou haſt conquered my ſoul.’

He would have thrown himſelf at the feet of the emperor, but he was prevented. Temugin caught him in his arms; and embracing him warmly, ‘I receive thee, as my friend,’ he ſaid; ‘and in no other [269] light will I admit thee to offer thyſelf to me. Happy is the ſovereign who hath ſuch a friend.’

Aſtyages would have departed the next morning, but Temugin inſiſted on his remaining ſome time; during which he took delight to do him honour, above all his princely gueſts.

The magnificence of ſuch a ſcene, never equalled upon earth, dazzled not the eyes of Aſtyages; nor could the offer of Temugin, to make him ſovereign over many nations, ſhake his ſteady virtue.

‘Think it not ingratitude,’ he anſwered, ‘O firſt of human kind, in virtue as in power, that I decline favours, your holding me worthy of which covers me with the higheſt honour. My ſoul feels the warmeſt ſenſe of your generous confidence, and friendſhip; but its ambition never ſoared ſo high. I am content [270] with the contracted ſphere, in which heaven hath placed me; and find the government of one ſmall kingdom ſufficient for my abilities. Rather would I reign in the hearts of a ſingle village, made happy by my care, than rule over diſcontented millions, with a rod of iron; it not being the extent, but the good government of a kingdom, which in my humble ſenſe conſtitutes the happineſs and glory of a ſovereign.’

Temugin was ſtruck with ſentiments, the juſtice of which his ſoul acknowledged; though they had never occurred to him before. He pauſed for ſome minutes, then claſping Aſtyages to his breaſt, ‘We muſt fulfil the deſtiny appointed for us,’ ſaid he; ‘were I not Temugin, it ſhould be my wiſh to be Aſtyages.’

After ſome days ſpent in the cloſeſt intercourſe of mutual eſteem, Aſtyages departed for his own country, accompanied [271] by his ſon; who offered to remain, but Temugin waved ſuch a ſacrifice of every tender feeling. ‘After ſo long a ſeparation,’ ſaid he, ‘your ſouls muſt require ſome time to ſeal the connection of nature, by acquaintance. When I want your ſervice, I will call for it. Till then be happy in each other.’

SECTION VII.

THE return of Aſtyages reſtored to his people, the only happineſs which they had to wiſh for. Under him they enjoyed every bleſſing of life; and the virtues of his ſon gave them an aſſured preſage of its continuance.

Aſtyages, in the overflowing of paternal affection, would have ſhared his throne with his ſon; but he declined it. ‘Let it be my honour, let it be my happineſs,’ he ſaid, ‘to be the foremoſt of thy ſubjects, in humble obedience, as [272] in love! Let me learn to reign, in the execution of thy commands.’

But in the midſt of all this general joy, Aſtyages obſerved that a ſigh would ſometimes ſteal unawares from his ſon; that an abſence of mind, in ſpite of all his care to conceal it, ſhewed he cheriſhed ſome ſecret grief. Alarmed at this diſcovery, he communicated it to Abudah, and deſired him to try to explore the cauſe.

Abudah, in all his intercourſe with Arſaces, had ever endeavoured to ſink the authority of a father in the intimacy of a friend; an intimacy, which now knew no bounds; as the former character, which, notwithſtanding all his endeavours, had kept Arſaces at a reſpectful diſtance, was at an end.

He found him walking, penſive and alone, by the ſide of a rivulet, which ran through the gardens of Aſtyages. ‘Whence [273] cometh it, O my ſon!’ ſaid he, ‘that you ſeparate yourſelf thus from ſociety? What means that ſmothered ſigh, which this inſtant hath eſcaped you? Hath Arſaces any grief, which he is afraid to communicate to Abudah? Has he a thought, which he would hide from his friend?’

Arſaces was abaſhed, at being ſo ſurprized, at meriting this tender rebuke. He bluſhed, and hung down his head for a few moments, unable to make any anſwer.

Recovering himſelf at length, ‘O guide of my youth!’ he replied, ‘the heart of Arſaces harboureth not a thought which he is afraid to entruſt to you. The ſtate in which I left the virtuous Himilco—My father may poſſibly diſapprove—’

[274]'And the daughter of Himilco!' interrupted Abudah, claſping him in his arms. ‘Bluſh not, my ſon! To be inſenſible to love, argues a defect in nature; an incapacity for its moſt exquiſite happineſs. Nor need you fear your father's diſapprobation. He will aſſiſt you to obtain your wiſhes. The choice of reaſon cannot be unworthy of thee.’

This diſcovery gave the greateſt joy to Aſtyages, who wiſhed not for any thing ſo ardently, as to ſee the virtues of his ſon continued in his offspring. It was agreed that Arſaces and Abudah ſhould ſet out directly for the habitation of Himilco, attended by a train ſufficient to protect them on the way.

The journey was long; but nothing is too much for love. They performed it without meeting any misfortune.

[275]The ſurprize of Himilco, on ſeeing ſuch a numerous company approach his habitation, may be well conceived; but that ſurprize was ſoon turned to joy, when he heard the well-known voice of Arſaces, who advanced before the reſt. He deſcended inſtantly, and falling upon his neck, bedewed it with tears of joy.

When they had recovered from the ſoftneſs of this ſcene, Arſaces preſenting Abudah to Himilco, ‘Receive into thy friendſhip,’ ſaid he, ‘that Abudah, whoſe virtues thou haſt ſo often admired. Embrace, O Abudah! the beneficent reliever of my diſtreſs.’

Congenial virtues attract each other. Himilco and Abudah embraced with the eſteem of long acquaintance.

Arſaces, having given order for the encampment of his train, aſcended with Abudah, into the habitation of Himilco, [276] where he was ſoon bleſſed with the ſight of Arpaſia, who joyfully obeyed the firſt call of her father to receive him.

After mutual congratulations on the happineſs of their meeting, Arſaces gratified the anxiety of his hoſts, with a recital of the events of his life, ſince he had departed from them; the viciſſitudes of which frequently drew the ſympathetic tear from the gentle Arpaſia, though delicacy prevented his diſcloſing the circumſtance moſt intereſting to her.

But Abudah was not under the ſame reſtraint. Arpaſia withdrawing as ſoon as Arſaces had concluded his narrative, Abudah made a ſignal to him to follow her, and acquainted Himilco with Aſtyages's approbation of his ſon's paſſion.

Himilco, who was ſuperior to the affectation of making a difficulty of that which gave him pleaſure, acknowledged that his [277] daughter returned the love of Arſaces, and conſented to end his days with them in Betlis.

‘I acknowledge and adore,’ ſaid he, ‘the hand of heaven, which hath evidently led me through ſuch wonderous ways to this happineſs; which I will not ungratefully embitter, by repining that I was not thought worthy to effect the happineſs of my country alſo. I reſign myſelf humbly to its will, which is always right.’

Nor did Arpaſia receive the declaration of Arſaces's love with leſs candour. She referred him to her father for an anſwer; ſaying, with a bluſh, in which modeſty added new graces to beauty, that her inclination would find no difficulty in accompanying her obedience to his commands.

[278]Himilco could not leave the aſylum of his diſtreſs, without feeling the moſt tender emotions. But the recollection of paſt misfortunes only brightened the happy proſpect before him. He payed the tribute of ſome pious tears to the dear memory of thoſe whoſe remains he left behind him, and then departed with a grateful heart.

They arrived in ſafety at the court of Aſtyages, whoſe happineſs was compleated in theirs; and in the aſſurance, which their virtues, continued in a numerous offspring, gave him of the happineſs of his people: and Arſaces acknowledged, that true wiſdom conſiſteth in humble obedience to the will of heaven, without arrogantly preſuming to ſcan its ways.

FINIS.
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Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 5660 The history of Arsaces Prince of Betlis By the editor of Chrysal In two volumes pt 2. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5EE2-C