Áh let thy Handmaid, Sifter, Daughter move, And, all those tender Names in one, thy Love! The darkfome Pines, that o'er yon' Rocks reclin'd

Wave high, and murmur to the hollow Wind,
The wand'ring Streams 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;
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
A death-like Silence, 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 must I stay;
Sad Proof how well a Lover can obey!
Death, only Death, can break the lasting Chain,
And here ev'n then, fhall my cold Duft remain,
Here all its Frailties, all its Flames refign,
And wait 'till 'tis no Sin to mix with thine.

Ah Wretch! believ'd the Spouse of God in
vain,

Confefs'd within the Slave of Love and Man.

Affift me, Heav'n! but whence arose thatPray'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 fhall I lose the Sin, yet keep the Senfe,
And love th' Offender, yet deteft th' Offence?
How the dear Object from the Crime remove,
Or how distinguish Penitence from Love?
Unequal Tafk! a Paffion to resign,

For Hearts fo touch'd, so pierc'd, fo loft as mine.
Ere fuch a Soul regains its peaceful State,
How often muft it love, how often hate!
How often hope, defpair, refent, regret,
Conceal, difdain-do all Things but forget.
But let Heav'n feize it, all at once 'tis fir'd!
Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but in-
fpir'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 Alone can rival, can fucceed to thee.

How

How happy is the blamelefs Veftal's Lot? The World forgetting, by the World forgot: Eternal Sunshine of the spotless Mind!

Each Pray'r accepted, and each Wish resign'd;
Labour and Reft, that equal Periods keep;
• Obedient Slumbers that can wake and weep ;'
Defires compos'd, Affections ever ev'n;

Tears that delight, andSighs that waft to Heav'n.
Grace fhines around her with fereneft Beams,
And whifp'ring Angels prompt her golden
Dreams.

For her the Spouse prepares the bridal Ring, For her white Virgins Hymenæals fing,

For her th' unfading Rofe of Eden blooms, And Wings of Seraphs shed divine Perfumes, To Sounds of heav'nly Harps fhe dies away, And melts in Visions of eternal Day.

Far other Dreams my erring Soul employ, Far other Raptures of unholy Joy : When at the Clofe of each fad forrowing Day, Fancy reftores what Vengeance fnatch'd away, ThenConfcience fleeps, and leavingNature free, All my loose Soul unbounded springs to thee. O curft, dear Horrors of all-conscious Night! How glowing Guilt exalts the keen Delight! Provoking Dæmons all Restraint remove, And ftir within me ev'ry Source of Love, I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy Charms, And round thy Phantom glue my clafsping Arms.

I wake no more I hear, no more I view,
The Phantom flies me, as unkind as you.
I call aloud; it hears not what I fay;
I ftretch my empty Arms; it glides away.
To dream once more I close my willing Eyes;
Ye foft Illufions, dear Deceits, arife!

Alas, no more! methinks we wand'ring go
Thro' dreary Wastes, and weep each other's
Woe,

Where round fome mould'ring Tow'r pale Ivy

creeps,

And low-brow'd Rocks hang nodding o'er the Deeps.

Sudden you mount, you beckon from the Skies; Clouds interpofe, Waves roar, and Winds arife. I fhriek, start up, the fame fad Profpect find, And wake to all the Griefs I left behind.

For thee the Fates, feverely kind, ordain A cool Sufpenfe from Pleasure and from Pain; Thy Life a long dead Calm of fix'd Repose; No Pulse that riots, and no Blood that glows. Still as the Sea, e'erWinds were taught to blow, Or moving Spirit bade the Waters flow; Soft as the Slumbers of a Saint forgiv❜n, And mild as op'ningGleams of promis'dHeav'n. Come, Abelard! for what haft thou to dread? The Torch of Venus burns not for the dead. Nature ftands check'd; Religion disapproves ; Ev'n thou art cold—yet Eloïfa loves.

Ah

Ah hopeless, lasting Flames! like those that burn To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful Urn. What Scenes appear, where'er I turn my

View,

The dear Ideas where I fly, purfue,

Rife in the Grove, before the Altar rife,
Stain all my Soul, and wanton in my Eyes.
I waste the matin Lamp in Sighs for thee,
Thy Image steals between my God and me,
Thy Voice I seem in ev'ry Hymn to hear,
With ev'ry Bead I drop too foft a Tear.
When from theCenferClouds of Fragrance roll,
And swelling Organs lift the rifing Soul,
One Thought of thee puts all the Pomp to flight,
Priests, Tapers, Temples, swim before my Sight:
In Seas of Flame my plunging Soul is drown'd,
While Altars blaze, and Angels tremble round.

While proftrate here in humble Grief I lie, Kind, virtuous Drops just gathering in my Eye, While praying, trembling, in the Dust I roll, And dawning Grace is op'ning on my Soul: Come, if thou dar'ft, all charming as thou art! Oppose thyself to Heav'n; dispute my Heart; Come, with one Glance of those deluding Eyes Blot out each bright Idea of the Skies;

Take back that Grace, thofe Sorrows, and those Tears;

Take back my fruitless Penitence and Pray'rs ; Snatch me, juft mounting, from the bleft Abode; Affift the Fiends, and tear me from my God!