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Plate IV.

Vol. II. facing p.25.

S. Wale ini: et del:

9.SMüller sc:

Ah Wretch believ'd the Spouse of God in vain, Confessd within the Slave of Love and Man...

El: to ab:

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N these deep folitudes and awful cells,

Where heav'nly-penfive contemplation dwells,
And ever-mufing melancholy reigns;

What means this tumult in a Veftal's veins?
Why rove my thoughts beyond this laft retreat?
Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?
Yet, yet I love!From Abelard it came,
And Eloïfa yet muft kifs the name.

Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd,

Nor pafs thefe 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.

Relentlefs walls! whofe darkfome round contains

Repentant fighs, and voluntary pains:

Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn;




Ye grots and caverns fhagg'd with horrid thorn! 20

Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep,
And pitying faints, whofe ftatues 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,
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.
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 gufhing 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!

There ftern Religion quench'd th’unwilling flame,
There dy'd the beft 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 less kind than they?
Tears ftill are mine, and those I need not spare,
Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;



No happier task these faded eyes pursue ;
To read and weep is all they now can do.
Then share thy pain, allow that said relief;
Ah, more than share it, give me all thy grief.
Heav'n firft taught letters for fome wretch's aid,
Some banish'd lover, or fome captive maid;
They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires,

The virgin's wifh without her fears impart,


Excufe the blufh, and pour out all the heart,

Speed the foft intercourse from foul to foul,

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 name ; My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,

Some emanation of th'all-beauteous Mind.

Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry ray,

Shone fweetly lambent with celeftial 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.



VER. 66. And truths divine etc.] He was her Preceptor

in Philofophy and Divinity. P.

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