"For thee! if true Heabani is thy name; I seek the hermit seer of wondrous fame. My king doth offer thee rich gifts of state, And sent me to thee here to make thee great." "No empty honors do I seek, which void Of all true happiness, all men have cloyed. Return then to thy haunts of pleasure, pain, For thy king's embassy is all in vain." The seer returns within his lonely cave And leaves the prince alone the beast to brave. At last it slinks away within the gloom; No more from their wild home doth either come, Three days Prince Zaidu watches the dark lair, But now his courage turns to blank despair: The seer hath changed his mind since Samas sought To urge him forth to leave his lonely lot. The prince the mountain precipice now climbs, And peers within while clinging to the limbs Of stunted oaks, and views the mountain lair; But all in vain his calls ring on the air. Then mounting wearily his steed he turns Away, and unsuccessful thus returns. [Footnote 1: "Eri-ni," cedar-trees.] [Footnote 2: A carnivorous animal supposed to have been either a lion or a tiger, more probably a lion.] COLUMN VI HEABANI RESOLVES TO RETURN TO ERECH As Zaidu sadly turns and rides away, The hermit from his cave comes forth to pray: "Alas! hath all these wilds their charms here lost? And is my breast with wild ambition tost? My lonely cot I look upon with shame; Again I long to seek the fields of fame, Where luxury my remaining years May crown, and happiness may find--or tears; 'Tis true! I should have welcomed the _bar-ru;_[1] But he hath since returned to Subartu."[2] His harp he took from its dust-covered case, And kissed its carved and well-remembered face; And tuning it, he glanced toward the wood, And sang his farewell ode to solitude: Farewell, ye mountains, woods and trees-- My heart doth long again for joy; I love your wilds and mossy leas, But oh, your solitude doth cloy! I love to see the _bur-khi-is_[3] Sweep stately o'er the mossy rocks; And _tsabi_[4] in a wild like this, Hear the tattoo of red woodchucks. I love the cries of _lig-bar-ri_[5] The _nes-i_[6] calling for their prey; And leaping of the _na-a-li_[7] That fly in wildest fear away. I love the _bu-hir-tser-i_[8] all, _Khar-sa-a-nii sa-qu-u-tu;_[9] Hear _cu-uts-tsi_[10] with thunder roll Across the skies within my view. I love to see the _ca-ca-bi_[11] Peep through the pine-trees o'er my home, And watch the wild _tu-ra-a-khi_[12] And _arme_[13] welcome, to me come. Farewell! ye solitudes, farewell! I will not moulder rotting lie With no one's lips to wish me well; O give me immortality! But what is fame? A bubble blown Upon the breeze, that bursts its shell, And all our brightest hopes are flown, And leaves our solitude a hell.