To light the dead, and warm th' unfruithful urn.
What fcenes appear, where'er I turn my view?
The dear Ideas, where I fly, pursue,
Rife in the grove, before the altar rife,
Stain all my foul, and wanton in my eyes.
I waste the Matin lamp in fighs for thee,
Thy image fteals between my God and me,
Thy voice I feem in ev'ry hymn to hear,
With ev'ry bead I drop too foft a tear.
When from the cenfer clouds of fragrance roll
And fwelling organs lift the rifing foul,
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,
Priefts, tapers, temples, fwin before my fight:
In feas of flame my plunging foul is drown'd, 275
While Altars blaze, and Angels tremble round.
While proftrate here in humble grief I lie,
Kind, virtuous drops juft gath'ring in my eye,
While praying, trembling, in the duft I roll,
And dawning grace is op'ning on my foul:
Come, if thou dar'ft, all charming as thou art!
Oppose thyself to heav'n; difpure my heart;
Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes
Blot out each bright idea of the skies;
Take back that grace, those forrows, and those tears; 285
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!
No, fly
me, fly me, far as Pole from Pole;
Rife Alps between us! and whole oceans roll!
Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me,
Nor fhare one pang of all I felt for thee.
Thy oaths I quit, thy memory refign;
Forget, renounce ine, hate whate'er was mine.
Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view ()
Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!
O Grace ferene! oh virtue heav'nly fair!
Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!
Fresh blooming Hope, gay daughter of the fky!
And Faith, our early immortality!
Enter, each mild, each amicable guest;
Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest!
See in her cell fad Eloifa fpread,
Propt on fome tomb, a neighbour of the dead.
In each low wind methinks a Spirit calls,
And more than Echoes talk along the walls.
Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around,
From yonder fhrine I heard a hollow found.
,,Come, fifter, come! (it faid,
or feem'd to say) ,,Thy place is here, fad fifter, come away! 310. .,Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd, ,,Love's victim then, tho' now a fainted maid: ,,But all is calm in this eternal fleep;
,,Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep, ,,Ev'n fuperftition lofes ev'ry fear:
,,For God, not inan, abfolves our frailties here.,,
I come, I come! prepare your rofeat bow'rs,
Celestial palms, and ever blooming flow'rs.
Thither, where finners may have reft, I go,
Where flames refin'd in breafts feraphic glow:
Thou, Abelard! the laft fad office pay,
And smooth my paffage to the realms of day;
See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,
Suck my last breaft, and catch my flying foul!
in facred vestments may ft thou ftand, 3a5
The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,
Prefent the cross before my lifted eye,
Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloifa fee!
It will be then no crime to gaze on me.
See from my check the tranfient rofes fly!
See the laft sparkle languifh in my eye!
'Till ev'ry motion, pulfe, and breath be o'er;
And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more.
Oh Death all-eloquent! you only prove
What duft we doat on, when 'tis man we love.
Then too, when fate fhall thy fair frame deftroy,
(That caufe of all ny guilt, and all my joy)
In trance extatic may thy pangs be drown'd,
Bright clouds descend, and Angels watch thee round,
From op'ning fkies may ftreaming glories fhine,
And Saints embrace thee with a love like mine.
May one kind grave unite each hapless name,
And graft my love immortal on thy fame!
Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er, 345-
When this rebellious heart fhall beat no more;
If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings
To Paraclete's white walls and filver springs,
O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads,
And drink the falling tears each other fheds;
Then fadly fay, with mutual pity mov'd,
,,Oh may we never love as thefe have lov'd!,,
VER. 343. May one kind grave, etc.) Abelard and Eloifa were interred in the fame grave, or in monuments adioining, in the Monaftery of the Paraclete; he died in the year 1142, fhe in 1163.
From the full choir, when loud Hofannas rise,
And fwell the pomp of dreadful facrifice,
Amid that scene if fome relenting eye
Glance on the ftone where our cold relics lie,
Devotion's felf shall steal a thought from heav'n,
One human tear fhall drop, and be forgiv'n.
And fure if fate fome furure bard fhall join
In fad fimilitude of griefs to mine,
Gondemn'd whole years in abfence to deplore,
And image charms he muft behold no more;
Such if there be, who loves fo long, fo well;
Let him our fad, our tender ftory tell!
The well-fung woes will footh my pensive ghoft;
He belt can paint 'em who fhall feel 'em most.
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