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Ah Wretch believe the Spouse of God in vain, Confesød within the Slave of Love and Man...

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N thefe deep folitudes and awful cells, hear contemplation dwells,

And ever-mufing melancholy reigns;
What means this tumult in a Vestal's veins ?
Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat ? 5
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 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---wash it out, my tears!


In vain loft Eloïfa weeps and prays,
Her heart ftill 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,
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 my heart;
Nor pray'rs nor fafts 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 fighs, 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,

Led thro' a fad variety of woe:


Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom, Loft in a convent's folitary gloom!

Therestern 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 purfue;
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,
The virgin's wish without her fears impart, 55
Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart,
Speed the foft intercourse from foul to soul,
And waft a figh from Indus to the Pole.

Thou know'ft how guiltless first 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,

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Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry ray,
Shone fweetly lambent with celestial day.
Guiltless I gaz'd, heav'n liften'd while you fung; 65
And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
From lips like those what precept fail'd to move?
Too foon they taught me 'twas no fin to love :
Back thro' the paths of pleasing sense I ran,
Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man. 70
Dim and remote the joys of faints I fee;
Nor envy them that heav'n I lofe 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 fight of human ties,
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame,
Auguft her deed, and facred be her fame;
Before true paffion all those views remove;
Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?


VER. 66. And truths divine, etc.] He was her Preceptor in Philofophy and Divinity.


VER. 75.

Love will not be confin'd by Maifterie:

When Maifterie comes, the Lord of Love anon

Flutters his wings, and forthwith is he gone.

Chaucer. P.

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