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I can no more, by fhame, by rage fupprefs'd, 105 Let tears, and burning blushes speak the rest.


Canft thou forget that fad, that folemn day, When victims at yon altar's foot we lay? Canft thou forget what tears that moment fell, When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell? As with cold lips I kiss'd the facred veil, The shrines all trembled, and the lamps grew pale; Heav'n fcarce 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 Crofs 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


Thofe ftill at least are left thee to bestow. 120
Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie,
Still drink delicious poison from thy eye.
Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be prefs'd;
Give all thou canft---and let me dream the reft.
Ah no! inftruct me other joys to prize,
With other beauties charm my partial eyes,
Full in my view fet all the bright abode,
And make my foul quit Abelard for God.


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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 deferts led.
You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the defert fmil'd,
And Paradife was open'd in the Wild.
No weeping orphan saw his father's ftores 135
Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;
No filver faints, by dying misers giv'n,
Here brib'd the rage of ill requited heav'n :
But such plain roofs as piety could raise,
And only vocal with the Maker's praise.
In these lone walls (their days eternal bound)
These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets



Where awful arches make a noon-day night,
And the dim windows shed a folemn 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 am'rous charity!)



VER. 133. You rais'd thefe hallow'd walls;] He founded the Monastery. P.

But why should I on others pray'rs depend?
Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!
Ah let thy handmaid, fifter, daughter move,
And all those tender names in one, thy love!
The darkfome pines that o'er yon rocks reelin'd
Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, 156
The wand'ring ftreams 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 reft the visionary maid.

But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves,
Long-founding ifles, and intermingled graves,
Black Melancholy fits, and round her throws 165
A death-like filence, and a dread repose:
Her gloomy presence faddens all the scene,
Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green,
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
And breathes a browner horror on the woods.
Yet here for ever, ever muft I ftay;
Sad proof how well a lover can obey!
Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;
And here, ev'n then, fhall my cold dust remain,




Here all its frailties, all its flames refign, 175
And wait till 'tis no fin to mix with thine.

Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain,
Confefs'd within the flave of love and man.
Affift me, heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r?
Sprung it from piety, or from despair?
Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,
Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;
I view my crime, but kindle at the view,
Repent old pleasures, and follicit new;
Now turn'd to heav'n, I weep my past offence,
Now think of thee, and curfe my innocence.
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,


'Tis fure the hardest science to forget!
How shall I lose the fin, 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 paffion to refign,
For hearts fo touch'd, fo pierc'd, fo loft as mine.
Ere fuch a foul regains its peaceful state,
How often muft it love, how often hate!



How often hope, despair, refent, regret,
Conceal, difdain,---do all things but forget. 200
But let heav'n feize it, all at once 'tis fir'd;
Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!
Oh come! oh teach me nature to fubdue,
Renounce my love, my life, myself---and you.
Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he 205
Alone can rival, can fucceed to thee.

How happy is the blameless Vestal's lot?
The world forgetting, by the world forgot:
Eternal fun-fhine of the spotlefs mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish refign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep; 211
"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep ;"
Defires compos'd, affections ever even ;
Tears that delight, and fighs that waft to heav'n.
Grace fhines around her with ferenest beams, 215
And whifp'ring Angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading rofe of Eden blooms,
And wings of Seraphs fhed divine perfumes,
For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins Hymenæals fing,



VER. 212. Obedient flumbers, etc.] Taken from Crafhaw. P.

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