here the sons and daughters of abyssinia lived only to know the soft vicissitudes of pleasure and repose, attended by all that were skilful to delight, and gratified with whatever the senses can enjoy. they wandered in gardens of fragrance, and slept in the fortresses of security. every art was practised to make them pleased with their own condition. the sages who instructed them told them of nothing but the miseries of public life, and described all beyond the mountains as regions of calamity, where discord was always racing, and where man preyed upon man. to heighten their opinion of their own felicity, they were daily entertained with songs, the subject of which was the happy valley. their appetites were excited by frequent enumerations of different enjoyments, and revelry and merriment were the business of every hour, from the dawn of morning to the close of the evening.

these methods were generally successful; few of the princes had ever wished to enlarge their bounds, but passed their lives in full conviction that they had all within their reach that art or nature could bestow, and pitied those whom nature had excluded from this seat of tranquillity as the sport of chance and the slaves of misery.

thus they rose in the morning and lay down at night, pleased with each other and with themselves, all but rasselas, who, in the twenty-sixth year of his age, began to withdraw himself from the pastimes and assemblies, and to delight in solitary walks and silent meditation. he often sat before tables covered with luxury, and forgot to taste the dainties that were placed before him; he rose abruptly in the midst of the song, and hastily retired beyond the sound of music. his attendants observed the change, and endeavoured to renew his love of pleasure. he neglected their officiousness, repulsed their invitations, and spent day after day on the banks of rivulets sheltered with trees, where he sometimes listened to the birds in the branches, sometimes observed the fish playing in the streams, and anon cast his eyes upon the pastures and mountains filled with animals, of which some were biting the herbage, and some sleeping among the bushes. the singularity of his humour made him much observed. one of the sages, in whose conversation he had formerly delighted, followed him secretly, in hope of discovering the cause of his disquiet. rasselas, who knew not that any one was near him, having for some time fixed his eyes upon the goats that were browsing among the rocks, began to compare their condition with his own.

“what,” said he, “makes the difference between man and all the rest of the animal creation? every beast that strays beside me has the same corporal necessities with myself: he is hungry, and crops the grass; he is thirsty, and drinks the stream; his thirst and hunger are appeased; he is satisfied, and sleeps; he rises again, and is hungry; he is again fed, and is at rest. i am hungry and thirsty, like him, but when thirst and hunger cease, i am not at rest. i am, like him, pained with want, but am not, like him, satisfied with fulness. the intermediate hours are tedious and gloomy; i long again to be hungry that i may again quicken the attention. the birds peck the berries or the corn, and fly away to the groves, where they sit in seeming happiness on the branches, and waste their lives in tuning one unvaried series of sounds. i likewise can call the lutist and the singer; but the sounds that pleased me yesterday weary me to-day, and will grow yet more wearisome tomorrow. i can discover in me no power of perception which is not glutted with its proper pleasure, yet i do not feel myself delighted. man surely has some latent sense for which this place affords no gratification; or he has some desire distinct from sense, which must be satisfied before he can be happy.”

after this he lifted up his head, and seeing the moon rising, walked towards the palace. as he passed through the fields, and saw the animals around him, “ye,” said he, “are happy, and need not envy me that walk thus among you, burdened with myself; nor do i, ye gentle beings, envy your felicity; for it is not the felicity of man. i have many distresses from which you are free; i fear pain when i do not feel it; i sometimes shrink at evils recollected, and sometimes start at evils anticipated: surely the equity of providence has balanced peculiar sufferings with peculiar enjoyments.”

with observations like these the prince amused himself as he returned, uttering them with a plaintive voice, yet with a look that discovered him to feel some complacence in his own perspicacity, and to receive some solace of the miseries of life from consciousness of the delicacy with which he felt and the eloquence with which he bewailed them. he mingled cheerfully in the diversions of the evening, and all rejoiced to find that his heart was lightened.