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give all thou canst--and let me dream the rest. Ah no! instruct 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 band, and children of thy pray'r. 130 From the false 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 day's 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 solemn light; thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray, and gleams of glory brighten'd all the day. But now no face divine contentment wears, it is all blank sadness, or continual tears. See how the force of others' pray'rs I try,

O pious fraud of am'rous charity!) out why should I on others' pray’rs depend? come thou, my father, brother, busband, friend! .b let thy handmaid, sister, daughter move, nd all those tender names in one, thy love! Che darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd 155 'ave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, he wand'ring streams that shine between the bills, No. 79.

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the grots that echo to the tinkling rills, the dying gales that pant upon the trees, the lakes that quiver to the curling breeze; no more these scenes my meditation aid, or lull to rest the visionary maid: but o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves, long-sounding isles and intermingled graves, black Melancholy sits, 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 floods, and breathes a browner horror on the woods. 170

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, even then, shall my cold dust remain; here all its frailties, all its flames resign, and wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine.

Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain, confess'd within the slave of love and man. Assist me, Heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r? sprung it from piety, or from despair?

180 ev'n here, where frozen Chastity 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 Heay'n, I weep my past offence, now think of thee, and curse my innocence. Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 't is sure the hardest science to forget! , How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense

and love th' offender, yet detest th' offence? how the dear object from the crime remove, or how distinguish penitence from love? Unequal task! a passion to resign,

195 for hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine. Ere such a soul regains it's peaceful state, how often must it love, how often hate? how often hope, despair, resent, regret, conceal, disdain,---do all things but forget ? 200 but let Heav'n seize 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 Jot? the world forgetting, by the world forgot: eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd; 210 labour and rest, that equal periods keep; "obedient slunibers that can wake and weep;" desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n; tears that delight, and sighs that waft to heav'n: grace shines around her with serenest beams, 215 and whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams. For ber th' unfading rose of Eden blooms, nd wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes; or her the spouse prepares the bridal ring, or her white virgins hymenæals sing; ) sounds of heav'nly barps she dies away, nd melts in risions of eternal day.

Far other dreams my erring soul employ, ir other raptures of unboly joy: hen at the close of each sad, sorrowing day, 225

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fancy restores what Vengeance snatch'd away, then Conscience sleeps, and leaving Nature free, all my loose soul unbounded springs to thee. Oh curst, dear horrors of all-conscious night! how glowing guilt exalts the keen delight! 230 provoking dæmons 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 stretch my empty arms; it glides away. To dream once more I close my willing eyes; ye soft Illusions, dear Deceit, arise! . 240 Alas, no more! methinks we wand'ring go through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe, where round sonie mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps, and low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps, sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies; ' 245 clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise. I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find, and wake to all the griefs I left behind.

For thee the Fates, severely kind, ordain a cool suspence from pleasure and from pain; 250 thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repose; no pulse that riots, and no blood that glows. Still as the seas e'er winds were taught to blow, or moving spirits bid the waters flow; soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n, and mild as open'ing gleams of promis'd heav'n.

Come, Abelard ! for what hast thou to dread? the torch of Venus burns not for the dead, Nature stands check’d, Religion disapproves;

255 er'n thou art cold---yet Eloïsa loves. , 260 Ab hopeless, Jasting 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 fly, pursue, rise in the grove, before the altar rise,

265 stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes. I waste the matin lamp in sighs 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.

270 When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll, and swelling organs list the rising soul, one thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight: in seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd, 275 while altars blaze, and angels tremble round.

While prostrate here in humble grief I lie, kind virtuous drops just gath’ring in my eye, while praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, and dawning grace is op'ning on my soul: 280 come, if thou darst, 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 skies: take back that grace, those sorrows and those tears; take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs: 286. snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode: assist the fiends, and tear me from my God: no, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole; rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll! 290 ah, come not, write not, think not once of me, nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign;

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