robbers. and inquired which was the road to Persia. The answer was, that there were two ways; one of them public and well frequented, the other much nearer, but lonesome and dangerous, because it was easy to wander into the deserts, a small part of which I had already gone over. I chose, as you may imagine, the latter way, and found myself, at the close of the third day, in the very situation of which I had been warned. Sufficiently dreadful must be the condition of any man in a defert, far from human habitation; without a guide, and without provisions; without knowledge, and without hope : what then must be that of a prince, brought up with delicacy, and softened by good fortune, accustomed never to think of misery, and never accustomed to hear of want? I continued, however, my tiresome journey for the space of a day and a night longer. Then indeed, my strength was at an end; but the end of the defert was far diftant. The fun was now setting; his retreat was accompanied by no music of the birds, for nothing near me was alive but my dog. It was followed by the falling of no dew, for all around me was burning fand. I threw myself in despair upon one of the hillocks: " Here will I lie, for why thould I go farther? Here will I slumber the fleep eternal." My dog now crawled towards me, looked in my face, and began to whimper. He had eat nothing fince the day before, when I had faithfully shared with him the last of my provifion. I now hung over him and wept, stroking him tenderly, and crying out "How willingly would I feed thee, had I but only a morfel to myself." As if he had understood the words which I uttered, as if he could interpret the tear in my eye, he looked at me steadily, licked me once more, then suddenly fprung up and disappeared. 66 It may perhaps seem incredible, that of all the trials which I fuffered either before or fince, this was one which affected me most deeply; this was the only one which totally overwhelmed me. He too at laft," I exclaimed in an agony; my feelings overpowered me, and I funk under them, and loft at once both fenfibility and speech. How long I lay in this fituation, is not possible precisely to fay. It must however have continued for fome hours; for 1 May 18, day-light was again beginning to appear, when a whimpering, a tugging, and a scratching awakened me. 1 opened with difficulty my heavy eyes, and beheld again my returning friend. His mouth was bloody, and at my feet lay an animal of a species with which I was entirely unacquainted; which, however, a good deal resembled a coney. When he saw me awake, he whimpered foftly once more, and taking it up, laid it in my bosom. I shall not here say a word of my feelings ;I fpeak at present to a man, whofe eye teftifies fufficiently how his heart is affected. This which he offered me was no, royal banquet; but none of those which I had formerly tasted, amid all the pomp and splendor of luxury, appeared to me so excellent, or refreshed me fo much, as this small morsel of raw flesh... I continued my pilgrimage; and in the afternoon found myself on a road which was somewhat frequented; at the end, of the day I was on Persian ground, and early next morning entered a small town, where an hofpitable old man gave me entertainment. The money which I had would have only been fufficient to bear my expences for two days; I there fore embraced the first opportunity to retire into the remotest corner of the houfe, and there, although not without reluct ance and regret, broke the least of the jewels from my father's ring. The price which I received for it, carried me to Ispahan. I travelled thither in company with a caravan, or rather indeed under their protection; for such was my melancholy, that during the whole journey I scarcely uttered a hundred words, answered only in monofyllables, and never asked a question myself. When at last we reached Ispahan, we found the streets crowded and full of confufion; my companions inquired into the cause of the tumult; but before they had time to be informed of the matter, I fsaw it too clearly, with my own eyes I faw it, and had occafion for all my refolution, to prevent the emotions I felt from betraying me. The cause of the tumult was nothing more than the entrance of the ambassador of the ufurper of my throne. He rode on the elephant which I had been accustomed to use, and he himself had been one of my favourites. How often had he sworn to me inviola ble fidelity; and now he came to folicit my death. : 4 What I suspected came to pass. Contrary to the common policy of princes, I had formerly supported the king of Perfia, when in imminent danger of being driven from his throne. This however was now forgotten, and the demands of the conqueror readily complied with. It was intimated immediately by public proclamation, that an immense sum of money would be the price of my head; and a description of my person was added, fo particular, that every one must have known me at first fight, provided my appearance had continued the fame. But however exactly my picture had been drawn, there was one circumftance of no small importance, which lucklily was not, nor could not be attended to; the alteration, which, in this interval, 'my misfortunes had occafioned. The man, whose neceffities had reduced him so low, that he was supported only by his faithful dog, could resemble but little the vanquisned monarch. I remained therefore at Ifpaban a whole month in security, and from thence continued my journey at leifure, until at last I reached Constantinople. Here I purchafed a folitary manfion, and have now lived for fixteen years, far from the dangerous society of men. My parfimonious way of living required but little, and that little my ring has supplied. I have never demeaned myself by asking affistance, nor have Lever regretted the loss of my crown. I never complained of my present situation, nor did I ever again shed a fingle tear, till yesterday, that my companion, my friend, and my preserver, my faithful Murckim, at laft forsook me. I was robbed of him by age; and fuch was his affection, that even to the last he licked my hand, and it seemed as if he expired with reluctance, only because he was parted from me. My history now approaches to a close: out of eleven stones which were once in my ring, two of the most valuable yet remain. For the few days which I have now to live, the least of these two will be more than fufficient. Take then the other; and let your chissel be employed in commemorating the virtues of a faithful creature, who, though only a dog, you will furely acknowledge, to be more worthy of that honour than many conquerors and heroes. During this relation, which the tone of the speaker made much more interesting than it can be rendered to a reader, the eyes of the artist melting into tears, more than once teftified what were his emotions. When Melai had now finished, Melonion began, Oh monarch! i Melai. Monarch no more; I am only and old man.ne Melonion. Noble, generous, godlike old man, how deeply has thy fate affected me; with what warmth and fincerity do I thank you, for refolving to intrust to my flender abilities, a task, which at first indeed appeared to be degrading, but which I now confider as of more dignity, than that of commemorating many princes. Two requests you must how. ever grant me. Melai. (Smiling.) Two for one: well, what are they? Melonion. Keep your jewel. Fortune has already fufficiently enriched me; and I can easily afford to spend fome of my time, in working entirely for my own fatisfaction. This was my first request, and here is my second; however well grounded may be your hatred of mankind, carry it not; I befeech you, fo far, as to disbelieve entirely in human virtue. What instinct, without the assistance of reason, so frequently produces among the inferior animals, reflection and feeling, however seldom, will furely fometimes effect among ourselves. I have indeed no crown to offer you, as an atonement for the one which you have loft; but the last and severeft of all your losses, the lofs of a friend, I may be able to fupply. Melai. You? Melonion. Yes; abandon your folitude, and trust yourself to me. In my house you shall always be master; nay more, you shall be my father and my king; and then you can behold with your own eyes, the gradual progress of that monument, from which your favourite is to receive immortali ty. The fource from which this history was drawn begins here unfortunately to fail. It is only added in a few words, that the old man, after many denials, at last resolved to pass his life with Melonion; that he never had any reason to repent his refolution; and that a beautiful monument of the finest alabafter, was erected to the memory of his faithful dog. To most of those however, by whom it was beheld, the meaning and intention of it must have been totally a secret, although, after the death of the venerable monarch, we may suppose that his hiftory would no longer be concealed. It is more than probable that this monument was remaining at the time that Constantinople was taken by the Turks. What might afterwards become of it I know not, although I would not absolutely difcourage my readers from hoping, that so precious a specimen of sculpture may still exist in fome neglected, corner, where fome future traveller may perhaps light upon it, and restore it to the curiosity of the admirers of art, and to the tears and enthusiasm of the love ers of virtue. Remarks on fome English Plays, from Miscellanies in profe and verse.. Mabomet the Impostor, a Tragedy, from Voltaire. This collection is wretched, but fuited to the taste of those gentlemen called booksellers. I give it a place in my collection, only as a parch to Shakespeare, and a monument (may it be short lived) of bad taste. From this hard censure, I mean to except the Siege of Damafcus. It has fome merit; and there is indulgence enough in this admiffion; perhaps the beft critics may blame it. But to proceed, as to the merits of the play in question, Monfieur Voltaire could not abide Shakespeare, which is not furprising. They were most perfect oppofites, as a man of profound abilities and wildom, is opposite to a pleafant fuperficial fop. A total want of genius, and even of tafte and propriety for tragic compofition, is remarkable in every line of this piece; yet it has a great run at London. The general admiration of this, and many other dramatic pieces of the fame cast, affords full proof that we are degenerate and flupid. Douglas, the fingle good tragedy of this age, was at first rejected at London. Mahomet, Barbaroffa, ৮৮. &c. live and flourish there. The Siege of Damascus, a Tragedy, by Hughes. The epilogue, spoken by Mr. Wilks, is filly, and very like those in vogue at present. The prologue, spoken by Lord Sandwich, is finely poetical, and worthy of the occafion, and the actors. The play, indeed, is fitter for fuch occafional performance, thancom mon exhibition on the public theatre, having various beauties, and great insperfections. |