Volat ambiguis
Mobilis alis hora, nec ulli
Praestat velox Fortuna fidem. SENECA. Hippol. 1141.
On fickle wings the minutes haste,
And fortune's favours never last. F. LEWIS.
ON the fourth morning Seged rose early, refreshed
with sleep, vigorous with health, and eager with
expectation. He entered the garden, attended by
the princes and ladies of his court, and seeing
nothing about him but airy cheerfulness, began to say to
his heart, "This day shall be a day of pleasure."
The sun played upon the water, the birds warbled
in the groves, and the gales quivered among the
branches. He roved from walk to walk as chance
directed him, and sometimes listened to the songs,
sometimes mingled with the dancers, sometimes let
loose his imagination in flights of merriment; and
sometimes uttered grave reflections, and sententious
maxims, and feasted on the admiration with which
they were received.
Thus the day rolled on, without any accident of
vexation, or intrusion of melancholy thoughts. All
that beheld him caught gladness from his looks, and
the sight of happiness conferred by himself filled
his heart with satisfaction: but having passed three
hours in this harmless luxury, he was alarmed on a
sudden by an universal scream among the women,
and turning back saw the whole assembly flying in
confusion. A young crocodile had risen out of the
lake, and was ranging the garden in wantonness or
hunger. Seged beheld him with indignation, as a
disturber of his felicity, and chased him back into
the lake, but could not persuade his retinue to stay,
or free their hearts from the terrour which had seized
upon them. The princesses inclosed themselves in
the palace, and could yet scarcely believe themselves
in safety. Every attention was fixed upon the late
danger and escape, and no mind was any longer at
leisure for gay sallies or careless prattle.
Seged had now no other employment than to
contemplate the innumerable casualties which lie in
ambush on every side to intercept the happiness of
man, and break in upon the hour of delight and
tranquillity. He had, however, the consolation of
thinking, that he had not been now disappointed
by his own fault, and that the accident which had
blasted the hopes of the day, might easily be
prevented by future caution.
That he might provide for the pleasure of the
next morning, he resolved to repeal his penal edict,
since he had already found that discontent and
melancholy were not to be frighted away by the
threats of authority, and that pleasure would only
reside where she was exempted from control. He
therefore invited all the companions of his retreat
to unbounded pleasantry, by proposing prizes for
those who should, on the following day, distinguish
themselves by any festive performances; the tables
of the antechamber were covered with gold and
pearls, and robes and garlands decreed the rewards
of those who could refine elegance or heighten
pleasure.
At this display of riches every eye immediately
sparkled, and every tongue was busied in celebrating
the bounty and magnificence of the emperour.
But when Seged entered, in hopes of uncommon
entertainment from universal emulation, he found
that any passion too strongly agitated, puts an end
to that tranquillity which is necessary to mirth, and
that the mind, that is to be moved by the gentle
ventilations of gaiety, must be first smoothed by a
total calm. Whatever we ardently wish to gain, we
must in the same degree be afraid to lose, and fear
and pleasure cannot dwell together.
All was now care and solicitude. Nothing was
done or spoken, but with so visible an endeavour at
perfection, as always failed to delight, though it
sometimes forced admiration: and Seged could not
but observe with sorrow, that his prizes had more
influence than himself. As the evening approached,
the contest grew more earnest, and those who were
forced to allow themselves excelled, began to
discover the malignity of defeat, first by angry glances,
and at last by contemptuous murmurs. Seged likewise
shared the anxiety of the day, for considering
himself as obliged to distribute with exact justice
the prizes which had been so zealously sought, he
durst never remit his attention, but passed his
time upon the rack of doubt, in balancing different
kinds of merit, and adjusting the claims of all the
competitors.
At last, knowing that no exactness could satisfy
those whose hopes he should disappoint, and thinking
that on a day set apart for happiness, it would
be cruel to oppress any heart with sorrow, he declared
that all had pleased him alike, and dismissed
all with presents of equal value.
Seged soon saw that his caution had not been able
to avoid offence. They who had believed themselves
secure of the highest prizes, were not pleased to be
levelled with the crowd: and though, by the
liberality of the king, they received more than his
promise had entitled them to expect, they departed
unsatisfied, because they were honoured with no
distinction, and wanted an opportunity to triumph
in the mortification of their opponents. "Behold
here," said Seged, "the condition of him who places
his happiness in the happiness of others." He then
retired to meditate, and, while the courtiers were
repining at his distributions, saw the fifth sun go
down in discontent.
The next dawn renewed his resolution to be happy.
But having learned how little he could effect by
settled schemes or preparatory measures, he thought
it best to give up one day entirely to chance, and
left every one to please and be pleased his own way.
This relaxation of regularity diffused a general
complacence through the whole court, and the emperour
imagined that he had at last found the secret
of obtaining an interval of felicity. But as he was
roving in this careless assembly with equal carelessness,
he overheard one of his courtiers in a close arbour
murmuring alone: "What merit has Seged
above us, that we should thus fear and obey him, a
man, whom, whatever he may have formerly performed,
his luxury now shows to have the same
weakness with ourselves." This charge affected him
the more, as it was uttered by one whom he had
always observed among the most abject of his flatterers.
At first his indignation prompted him to severity;
but reflecting, that what was spoken without
intention to be heard, was to be considered as only
thought, and was perhaps but the sudden burst of
casual and temporary vexation, he invented some
decent pretence to send him away, that his retreat
might not be tainted with the breath of envy, and,
after the struggle of deliberation was past, and all
desire of revenge utterly suppressed, passed the evening
not only with tranquillity, but triumph, though none
but himself was conscious of the victory.
The remembrance of his clemency cheered the
beginning of the seventh day, and nothing happened
to disturb the pleasure of Seged, till, looking on the
tree that shaded him, he recollected, that, under a
tree of the same kind he had passed the night after
his defeat in the kingdom of Goiama. The reflection
on his loss, his dishonour, and the miseries which his
subjects suffered from the invader, filled him with
sadness. At last he shook of f the weight of sorrow,
and began to solace himself with his usual pleasures,
when his tranquillity was again disturbed by jealousies
which the late contest for the prizes had produced,
and which, having in vain tried to pacify
them by persuasion, he was forced to silence by
command.
On the eighth morning Seged was awakened early
by an unusual hurry in the apartments, and inquiring
the cause, was told that the princess Balkis was
seized with sickness. He rose, and calling the
physicians, found that they had little hope of her
recovery. Here was an end of jollity: all his thoughts
were now upon his daughter, whose eyes he closed
on the tenth day.
Such were the days which Seged of Ethiopia had
appropriated to a short respiration from the fatigues
of war and the cares of government. This narrative
he has bequeathed to future generations, that no
man hereafter may presume to say, "This day shall
be a day of happiness."