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A BELAR D.
N these deep folitudes and awful cells, Where heav'nly-penfive contemplation dwells, And ever-mufing melancholy reigns;
What means this tumult in a Veftal's veins ? Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat? Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat? Yet, yet I love !---From Abelard it came, And Eloïfa yet must kiss the name.
Dear fatal name! reft ever unreveal'd, Nor pass these lips in holy filence feal'd: Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd Idea lies: O write it not my hand---the name appears Already written---wash it out, my tears!
In vain loft Eloïfa weeps and prays,
Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. Relentless walls! whofe darkfome round con
Repentant fighs, and voluntary pains :
Ye rugged rocks, which holy knees have worn ; Ye grots and caverns fhagg'd with horrid
Shrines! where their vigils pale ey'd virgins keep,
Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,
Still breath'd in fighs, still usher'd with a tear. I tremble too, where'er my own I find,
Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
Led thro' a fad variety of woe :
Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom, Loft in a convent's folitary gloom!
There ftern Religion quench'd th' unwilling flame, There dy'd the best of paffions, Love and Fame. 40
Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join Griefs to thy griefs, and echo fighs to thine. Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away; And is my Abelard lefs kind than they? Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare, 45 Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r; No happier task these faded eyes pursue ; To read and weep is all they now can do.
Then share thy pain, allow that fad relief; Ah, more than share it, give me all thy grief. 50 Heav'n first taught letters for fome wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or fome captive maid; They live, they speak, they breathe what love infpires,
Warm from the foul, and faithful to its fires,
Thou know'ft how guiltless firft I met thy flame, When Love approach'd me under friendship's
My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,
Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind.
Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry ray,
How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I faid,
Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?
VER. 66. And truths divine, etc.] He was her Preceptor in Philofophy and Divinity.
Love will not be confin'd by Maisterie:
When Maisterie comes, the Lord of Love anon
The jealous God, when we profane his fires, 81
And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart.
This fure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be)
Alas how chang'd! what fudden horrors rifẹ! A naked Lover bound and bleeding lies! Where, where was Eloïfe? her voice, her hand! Her ponyard had oppos'd the dire command. Barbarian, ftay! that bloody ftroke restrain; The crime was common, common be the pain. VOL. II.