The harmony of numbers in this poem is very fine. It is rather drawn out to too tedious a length, altho' the paffions vary with great judgement. It may be confidered as fuperior to any thing in the epiftolary way; and the many translations which have been made of it into the modern languages, are, in some measure, a proof of this. 'N thefe deep folitudes and awful cells, IN Where heav'nly-penfive contemplation dwells, And ever-mufing melancholy reigns; What means this tumult in a veftal's veins ? Dear, fatal name! reft ever unreveal'd, Her heart ftill dictates, and her hand obeys. Repentant fighs, and voluntary pains: Ye Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn ; All is not Heav'n's, while Abelard has part, Soon as thy letters, trembling, I unclose, Still breath'd in fighs, still usher'd with a tear. Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom, There ftern Religion quench'd th' unwilling flame, Then Then share thy pain, allow that fad relief;. Ah, more than share it, give me all thy grief. 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, Excufe the blush, and pour out all the heart, Speed the foft intercourfe from foul to foul, And waft a figh from Indus to the Pole. Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame, When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name; My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind, Some emanation of th' All-beauteous Mind. Those fmiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry ray, Shone fweetly lambent with celestial day. Guiltless I gaz'd; Heav'n liften'd while you fung; And truths divine came mended from that tongue. From lips like thofe 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 wifh'd an Angel, whom I lov'd a Man. Dim and remote the joys of faints I fee; Nor envy them that Heav'n I lose for thee. How oft, when prefs'd to marriage, have I faid, Curfe on all laws but thofe 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; VOL. I. F Before Before true paffion all thofe views remove, Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to love? More fond than miftrefs, make me that to thee! Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part, Alas how chang'd! what fudden horrors rife! Canft thou forget that fad, that folemn day, Canft |