ARGUMENT. ABELARD and Eloisa florished in the twelfth century: they were two of the most distinguished persons of their age in learning and beauty, but for nothing more famous than for their unfortunate passion. After a long course of calamities, they retired each to a several convent, and consecrated the remainder of their days to religion. It was many years after this separation, that a letter of Abelard to a friend, which contained the history of his misfortune, fell into the hands of Eloisa: this, awakening all her tenderness, occasioned those celebrated letters, out of which the following is partly extracted; which give so lively a picture of the struggles of grace and nature, virtue and passion.-POPE. A traveller who visited the convent about the year 1768, (see Annual Register) says, that its situation and prospects by no means resemble Pope's beautiful and romantic description of it. Father St. Romain, the officiating priest, walked with him round the whole demesne. The abbess, who was in her eighty-second year, desired to see our traveller; for she said she was his countrywoman, and allied to the extinct families of Lifford and Stafford: she was aunt to the then duke de Rochefoucault; and being fifth in succession, as abbess of that convent, hoped it would become a kind of patrimony. We know, alas! what has since happened both to her family and her convent! The community seemed to know but little of the afflicting story of their founder: little remains of the original building but a few pointed arches. In examining the tombs of these unfortunate lovers, he observed that Eloisa appeared much taller than Abelard.-Warton. ELOISA TO ABELARD. IN these deep solitudes and awful cells, What means this tumult in a vestal's, veins? 6 10 Dear, fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd, Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd: Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where, mix'd with God's, his loved idea lies: O, write it not, my hand!—the name appears Already written-wash it out, my tears! In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays; Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. Relentless walls, whose darksome round contains Repentant sighs and voluntary pains! 15 17 Relentless walls. This passage exhibits the Miltonic study which so strikingly distinguishes this poem from all the others of Pope. Forgot myself to stone,'' horrid thorn,' 'pale Ye rugged rocks, which holy knees have worn! 19 Ye grots and caverns, shagg'd with horrid thorn! Shrines, where their vigils pale-eyed virgins keep, And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep! Though cold like you, unmoved and silent grown, I have not yet forgot myself to stone. All is not Heaven's while Abelard has part; 25 Still rebel nature holds out half my heart; Nor prayers nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain, Nor tears for ages taught to flow in vain. Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, Still breathed in sighs, still usher'd with a tear. Now warm in love, now withering in my bloom, 35 There stern Religion quench'd the unwilling flame; 44 prayer: eyed,' low-thoughted care,' are phrases used in Milton's minor poems, which he was known to have read with dili gence. Then share thy pain; allow that sad relief; Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires; 55 Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame, When love approach'd me under friendship's name; 60 64 My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind, 70 51 Heaven first taught letters. Warton traces the idea of those beautiful lines to the fourth book of Diodorus Siculus, which we know not whether the poet ever read: it certainly is not due to the passage generally quoted from the first letter of Eloisa-Si imagines nobis amicorum absentium jucundæ sunt, quæ memoriam renovant, et desiderium absentiæ falso atque inani solatio levant; quanto jucundiores sunt literæ, quæ amici absentis veras notas afferunt!' |