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Barbarian, stay! that bloody stroke restrain;
The crime was common, common be the pain.
I can no more; by shame, by rage suppress'd, 105
Let tears and burning blushes speak the rest.

Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day,
When victims at yon altar's foot we lay?
Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell,
When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?
As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil,
The shrines all trembled, and the lamps grew pale:
Heav'n scarce believ'd the conquest it survey'd,
And saints with wonder heard the vows I made.
Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew,

115 Not on the cross my eyes were fix'd, but you: Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call, And if I lose thy love, I lose my all. Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe; Those still at least are left thee to bestow, 120 Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie, Still drink delicious poisons from thy eye, Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd; Give all thou cans'

tand 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 hand, 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 smil'd, And paradise was open'd in the wild. No weeping orphan saw his father's stores

195 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 proofs as picty 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,

145

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,
'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears.
See how the force of others' pray’rs I try,
(O pious fraud of amorous charity!)

150
But why should I on others' pray’rs depend?
Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!
Ah let thy handmaid, sister, daughter, move,
And all those tender names in one, thy love!
The darksomc pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd 155
Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind,
The wandering 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:
But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves,
Long-sounding isles and intermingled graves,
Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws
A death-like silence, and a dread repose:
Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
Shades every flow'r, and darkens every green,
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
And breathes a browncr 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, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain; Here all its frailties, all its flames resign, 175 And wait till'tis no sin to mix with thine.

Ab 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.

165

190

I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought?
I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;
I view my crime, buć 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 my innocence.
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,
'Tis 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 its 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 inspird; O come! O teach me nature to subdue, Renounce my love, iny 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 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 whispering angels prompt her golden dreams. For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms, And wings of seraphs shed divine perfuines; For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring; For her white virgins hymenæal sing; . 220 To sounds of heavenly harps she dies away, And melts in visions of cternal day.

Far other dreams my erring soul employ,
Far other raptures of unholy joy:
When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day, 225
Faucy 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 demons all restraint remove,
And stir within me every 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 deceits, arise!

240
Alas, no more! methinks we wandering go
Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe,
Where round some mouldering 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 suspense 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 sea, ere winds were taught to blow,
Or moving spirits bid the waters flow;
Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n,

265 And mild as opening 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; Ev'n thou art cold-yet Eloïsa loves.

VOL. II.

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Ah hopeless, lasting flames ! like those that burn
To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn.

What scenes appear where'er 1 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 thec;
Thy image steals between my God and me:
Thy voice I seem in every hymn to hear,
With every bead I drop too soft a tear.

270 When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll, And swelling organs lift the rising soul, One thought of thce puts all the pomp to flight; Priests, tapers, temples, swim before iny sight: In seas of fame my plunging soul is drown'd, 275 While altars blaze, and angels tremble round.

While prostrate liere in humble grief I lie, Kind virtuous drops just gathering in my eye; While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, And dawning grace is opening on my soul; Come, if thou dar'st, 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;

285 Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs; 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; Forget, renounce me, hate whale'er was mine. Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view), 295 Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu! O grace serene ! O virtue heav'nly fair! Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!

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