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Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe ; Those still at least are left thee to bestow.

I 20 Suill on that breast enamour'd let me lie, Still drink delicious poison from thy eye, Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd; Give all thou can't - and let me dream the rest. Ah no! intruct me other joys to prize,

125 With other beauties charm my partial eyes, Full in my view set all the bright abode, And make my soul quit Abelard for God.

Ah think at least thy flock deserves thy care, Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r. 130 From the falfe world in early youth they fled, By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led. You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smild, And paradise was open’d in the wild. No weeping orphan saw his father's stores

135 Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors; No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n, Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited Heav'n ; But such plain roofs as Piety could raise, And only vocal with the Maker's praise. 140 In these lone walls (their days eternal bound) These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd, Where awful arches make a noon-day night, And the dim windows shed a folema light; Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray,

145 And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day. But now no face divine contentment wears, 'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears. See how the force of others pray’rs 1 try, (O pious fraud of am'rous charity !)

150 NOT I 3. VIR. 133. Yox rais'd bele ballow'd walls ;] He founded the Monastery VOL. I.


But why should I on others pray'rs depend?
Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!
Ah let thy handmaid, fifter, daughter move,
And all those tender names in one, thy love!
The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd, 155
Wave high, and murmur the hollow wind,
The wand'ring streams that shine between the hills,
The grots that echo to the tinkling rills,
The dying gales that pant upon the trees,
The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze; 160
No more these scenes my meditation aid,
Or lull to rest the visionary maid.
Buto'er the twilight groves and dusky caves,
Long-founding itles, and intermingled graves,
Plack Melancholy fits, and round her throws 165
A death-like silence, and a dread repose;
Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green,
Deepens the murmur of the falling Aoods,
And breathes a browner horror on the woods.

Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;
Sad proof how well a lover can obey !
Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;
And here, ev’n then, shall my cold dust remain ;
Here all its frailties, all its flames resign,
And wait till’tis no fin to mix with chine...

Ah wretch! beliey'd the spouse of God in vain,
Confefs d within the slave of love and man.
Aflift me, heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r?
Sprung it from piety, or from despair ?

Ev'n here, where frozen chaílity retires,
Love finds an altar for forbidden fires
I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;




I view my crime, but kindle at the view, 185
Repent old pleasures, and solicit new ;
Now turn’d to heav'n, I weep my past offence,
Now think of thee, and curse


Of ali affliction taught a lover yet,
"Tis sure the hardest science to forget!

How thall I lose the fin, yet keep the sense,
And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence?
How the dear object from the crime remove,
Or how diftinguish penitence from love?
Unequal talk! a passion to resign,

For hearts fo touch'd, so pierc'd, fo lot as mine!
Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,
How often must it love, how often hate !
How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
Conceal, disdain, -- do all tirings but forget
But let heav'n feize it, all at once 'tis fir'd;
Not touch’d, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!
Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue,
Renounce my love, my life, myself and you.
fill my fond heart with God alone, for he

205 Alone can rival, can succeed to thee.

How happy is the blameless Vestal's lot?
The world forgetting, by the world forgot:
Eternal fun-fhine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each with resign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
" Obedient flumbers that can wake and weep;"
Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n;
Tears that delight, and fighs that waft to'lcav'n.
Grace shines around her with ferenelt beams, 215
And whisp’ring Angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th’unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of Seraphs shed divine perfumes,

Ver. 212. Obedientjlumbers, etc.] Taken from Craihav.

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For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins Hymenæals fing,
To sounds of heav'nly harps the dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day.

Far other dreams my erring foul employ,
Far other raptures, of unholy joy :
When at the close of each fad, forrowing day, 225
Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away,
Then conscience fleeps, and leaving nature free,

loose soul unbounded springs to thee.
O curft, dear horrors of all-conscious night!
How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
Provoking Demons all restraint remove,
And stir within me ev'ry source of love.
I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,
And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms.
I wake: - no more I hear, no more I view, 235
The phantom flies me, as unkind as you.
I call aloud ; it hears not what I say:
I tretch my empty arms; it glides away.
To dream once more I close my willing eyes ;
Ye foft illufions, dear deceits, arise!

Alas, no more!'methinks we wand'ring go
Thro' dreary wades, and wecp each other's woe,
Where round some mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
Sudden you mount, you becken from the skies ; 245
Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise.
I shriek, start up, the fame sad prospect find,
And wake to all the griefs I left behind.

For thee the fates, severely kind, ordain
A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain ; 250
Thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repofs;
No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows.

Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow,
Or moving fpirit bade the waters flow;
Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n,

255 And mild as op'ning gleams of promis'd heav'n.

Come, Abelard ! for what haft thou to dread? The torch of Venus burns not for the dead. Nature ftands check'd; Religion disapproves; Ev’n thou art cold — yet Eloïsa loves.

269 Ah hopelefs, lafting flames ! like those that burn To light the dead, and warm th’unfruitful urn.

What scenes appear where'er I turn my view?
The dear ideas, where I Ay, pursue,
Rise in the grove, before the altar rise,

Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes.
I waste the Matin lamp in fighs for thee,
Thy image steals between my God and me,
Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear,
With ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear.

When from the cenfer clouds of fragrance roll,
And swelling organs lift the rising soul,
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to fight,
Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my fight :
In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd, 275
While Altars blaze, and Angels tremble round,

While proftrate here in humble grief I lie,
Kind, virtuous drops just gath'ring in my eye,
While praying, trembling, in the duft I roll,
And dawning grace is op'ning on my soul : 280
Come, if thou dar'it, all charming as thou art!
Oppose thyself to Heav'n ; dispute my heart ;
Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes
Blot out each bright idea of the kies ;
Take back that grace, those forrows, and those tears
Iake fruitless penitence and pray’rs ;


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