Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe; Those still at least are left thee to bestow. 120 Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie, Ah no! instruct me other joys to prize, 125, With other beauties charm my partial eyes, And make my soul quit Abelard for God. 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 deserts led. You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'd, And Paradise was open'd in the Wild. NOTES. Ver 119. Come! with thy looks, &c.] These lines cannot be justified by any thing in the letters of Eloisa. What approaches the nearest to them is a passage in the first Epistle, which is thus given in Mr. Berrington's translation. " I am not to have the happiness of your company; give me therefore what else you can. I ask but a few lines; and can you, who are so rich in words, refuse me that faint image of yourself?" The original affords still less grounds for the passage in the poem. "Attende, obsecro, quæ requiro; et parva hæc videbuntur, et tibi facillima. Dum tui præsentia fraudor, verborum saltem votis, quorum tibi copia est, tuæ mihi imaginis præsenta dulcedinem. Frustrà te in rebus dapsilem expecto, si in verbis avarum sustineo." Ver. 130. Ah think at least, &c.] " Hujus quippe loci tu, post Deum, solus es fundator, solus hujus oratorii constructor, solus hujus Congregationis ædificator-in ipsis cubilibus ferarum, in ipsis latibulis latronum, ubi nec nominari Deus solet! divinum erexisti Tabernaculum, &c.-Heloisa Abelardo. Ep. I. Ver. 133. You rais'd these hallow'd walls;] He founded the Monastery. P. No weeping orphan saw his father's stores 135 And only vocal with the Maker's praise. 140 NOTES. Ver. 136. Our shrines irradiate,] Non magis auro fulgentia atque ebore, simulacra, quàm lucos, et in iis silentia ipsa adoramus, says Pliny very finely, of places of worship. Warton. Ver. 141. In these lone] All the images drawn from the Convent, from this line down to line 170, and particularly the personification of Melancholy, expanding her dreadful wings over its whole circuit, cannot be sufficiently applauded. The fine epithet, browner horror, is from Dryden. It is amusing to read with this passage Mr. Gray's excellent Account of his Visit to the Grande Chartreuse. Works, 4to. p. 67. These exquisite lines will be highly relished by all those, Who never fail To walk the studious cloysters pale, In service high and anthem clear, As may with sweetness through mine ear And bring all heav'n before mine eyes. Il Penseroso, v. 155. Warton. 145 150 Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray, But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves, Yet here for ever, ever must I stay; Here all its frailties, all its flames resign, 175 Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain, Confess'd within the slave of love and man. Assist 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 solicit new; Now turn'd to heav'n, I weep my past offence, Now think of thee, and curse my innocence. 180 185 Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 'Tis sure the hardest science to forget! 190 And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence? Unequal task! a passion to resign, 195 For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine. How often must it love, how often hate! Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd! NOTES. Ver. 177. Ah wretch!] From the Letters; as also v. 133; and also v. 251; from the Letters. Epist. ii. p. 67. Warton. Ver. 201. But let heav'n seize it,] Here is the true doctrine of the Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue, 205 How happy is the blameless Vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot: Eternal sun-shine of the spotless mind! Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd; 210 Labour and rest, that equal periods keep; " Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep ;" Desires compos'd, affections ever even ; Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to heaven. Grace shines around her, with serenest beams, 215 And whisp'ring Angels prompt her golden dreams. For her, th' unfading rose of Eden blooms, And wings of Seraphs shed divine perfumes, NOTES. the Mystics. There are many such strains in Crashaw, particularly in a poem called The Flaming Heart, and in the Seraphical Saint Teresa in Crashaw. Warton. But how beautiful an use has Pope here made of this doctrine! At the same time, nothing is introduced that here offends our serious ideas. Bowles. Ver. 212. Obedient slumbers, &c.] Taken from Crashaw. P. Milton also honoured Crashaw by borrowing some lines from his translation of Marino's Slaughter of the Innocents. See Crashaw, in the Letters, vol. vii. Warton. Ver. 215. Grace shines around her.] Dr. Warton, in a note on this passage, has given a long extract on Divine Grace, from the works of Fenelon; a writer of the purest mind and warmest devotional feelings, but surely not to be confounded with such persons as talk of " whispering angels," and "wings of seraphs, that shed divine perfumes;" and consequently not much honoured by being placed in such company. Ver. 218. Wings of Seraphs] A late poet, (T. Warton,) speaking of a Hermit at his evening prayers, says beautifully : Then, |