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.