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Why feels

N these deep solitudes and awful cells,

Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns ; What means this tumult in a Vestal's veins? Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat ?

5 my heart its long-forgotten heat ? Yet, yet I love !---From Abelard it came, And Eloïsa yet must kiss the name.

Dear fatal name! rest ever unrevealid, Nor pass these lips in holy filence seal’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---walh it out, my tears !


and prays,


In vain loft Eloisa weeps

15 Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. Relentless walls ! whose darksome round con

tains Repentant fighs, and voluntary pains : Ye rugged rocks, which holy knees have worn; Ye grots and caverns shagg’d with horrid

thorn! Shrines! where their vigils pale ey'd virgins keep, And pitying faints, whose statues learn to weep! Tho' cold like you, unmov'd and filent

grown, I have not yet forgot myself to stone. All is not Heav’n’s while Abelard has part, 25 Still rebel nature holds out half Nor pray’rs nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain, Nor tears for ages taught to flow in vain.

Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, That well-known name awakens all my woes. 30 Oh name for ever fad ! for ever dear! Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear. I tremble too, where'er my own I find, Some dire misfortune follows close behind. Line after line my gushing eyes o’erflow, 35 Led thro'a fad variety of woe : Now warm in love, now with’ring in my bloom, Loft in a convent's solitary gloom!

my heart;

Thereftern Religion quench'd th’unwilling flame, There dy'd the best of passions, 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 less 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 some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid They live, they speak, they breathe what love in

spires, Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires, The virgin's wish without her fears impart, 55 Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart, Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.

Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame, When Love approach'd me under friendship’s


60 My fancy form’d thee of angelic kind, Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind.


Those smiling eyes, attemp’ring ev'ry ray,
Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.
Guiltless Igaz'd, heav'n listen'd while you sung; 65
And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
From lips like those what precept fail'd to move ?
Too soon they taught me 'twas no fin to love :
Back thro' the paths of pleasing sense I ran,
Nor wilh'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man. 70
Dim and remote the joys of saints I see;

them that heav'n I lose for thee.
How oft, when press’d to marriage, have I said,
Curfe on all laws but those which love has made?
Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,

75 Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies. Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame, August her deed, and sacred be her fame; Before true passion all those views remove; Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?


Ver. 66. And truths divine, etc.] He was her Preceptor ia Philosophy and Divinity.


VER. 75.

Love will not be confin’d by Maisterie :
When Maisterie comes, the Lord of Love anon
Flutters his wings, and forthwith is he gone.

Chaucer. P.

The jealous God, when we profane his fires, 81
Those restless paffions in revenge inspires,
And bids them make mistaken mortals groan,
Who seek in love for aught but love alone.
Should at my feet the world's great master fall, 85
Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn 'em all:
Not Cæsar's empress would I deign to prove;
No, make me mistress to the man I love ;
If there be yet another name more free,
More fond than mistress, make me that to thee!
Oh ! happy state ! when fouls each other draw, 91
When love is liberty, and nature, law:;
All then is full, poffeffing and poffest,
No craving void left aking in the breast :
Ev’n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it

95 And each warm wish springs mutual from the

heart. This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be) And once the lot of Abelard and me.

Alas how chang’d! what sudden horrors rise ! A naked Lover bound and bleeding lies ! Where, where was Eloise ? her voice, her hand! Her ponyard had oppos’d the dire command. Barbarian, stay! that bloody stroke restrain; The crime was common, common be the pain. Vol. II.



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