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O, come! O, teach. me nature to subdue,
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
Far other dreams my erring soul employ, Far other raptures of unholy joy. When, at the close of each sad, sorrowing day, Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away, Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free, All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee. 0, cursed, 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
creeps, And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
244 Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies ; 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; Thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repose; 251 No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows : Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow, Or moving spirit bade the waters flow; Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiven, 255 And mild as opening gleams of promised heaven.
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 Eloisa loves. 260 Ah, hopeless, lasting flames ! like those that burn To light the dead, and warm the 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
While prostrate here in humble grief I lie,
. 285 Take back my fruitless penitence and prayers; Snatch me, just mounting, from the bless'd 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! 290 300
274 Priests, tapers, &c. Pope seems to have felt no hesitation in borrowing, where the expression caught his ear. Those lines are word for word from Smith's dreary Phædra and Hippolytus :
Priests, tapers, temples, swam before my sight.
Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me;
See in her cell sad Eloisa spread, Propp'd on some tomb, a neighbor of the dead. In each low wind methinks a spirit calls, 305 And more than echoes talk along the walls. Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around, From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound :• Come, sister, come ! it said, or seem'd to say ; • Thy place is here; sad sister, come away: 310 Once, like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd ; Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid : But all is calm in this eternal sleep; Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep; Ev'n superstition loses every fear;
315 For God, not man, absolves our frailties here.' I come, I come! prepare your roseate bowers, Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flowers : Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go; Where flames refined in breasts seraphic glow : Thou, Abelard ! the last sad office pay, 321 And smoothe my passage to the realms of day:
See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll;
Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy,
340 From opening skies may streaming glories shine, And saints embrace thee with a love like mine.
May one kind grave unite each hapless name, And graft my love immortal on thy fame! Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er, 345 When this rebellious heart shall beat no more; If ever chance two wandering lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, O’er the pale marble shall they join their heads, And drink the falling tears each other sheds; 350
323 See my lips tremble. From Oldham's · Death of Adonis:'
Kiss, while I watch thy swimming eyeballs roll,