« EelmineJätka »
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.
Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?
If there be yet another name more free,
More fond than mistress, make me that to thee! 90 Oh! happy state! when fouls each other draw, When love is liberty, and nature, law:
Love will not be confin'd by Maisterie:
When Maisterie comes, the Lord of Love anon
Flutters his wings, and forthwith is he gone.
All then is full, poffeffing, and possest,
No craving void left aking in the breast:
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, When victims at yon altar's foot we lay? Canft thou forget what tears that moment fell, When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell? As with cold lips I kifs'd the facred veil, The fhrines all trembled, and the lamps grew pale: Heav'n fcarce believ'd the Conquest it survey'd, And Saints with wonder heard the vows I made. Yet then, to thofe dread altars as I drew, Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd, but you: Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call, And if I lofe thy love, I lose my all.
Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe;
Thofe ftill at least are left thee to bestow.
Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie,
Still drink delicious poifon from thy eye,
Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd;
Ah think at least thy flock deferves thy care,
By thee to mountains, wilds, and deferts led.
You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the defert fmil'd, And Paradife was open'd in the Wild.
No weeping orphan faw his father's ftores
Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;
In thefe lone walls (their days eternal bound)
Thefe mofs-grown domes with fpiry turrets crown'd,
VER. 133. You rais'd thefe hallow'd walls;] He founded the Monaftery. P.
Where awful arches make a noon-day night,
And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day.
But why should I on others pray'rs depend?
Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!
The dying gales that pant upon the trees,
The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze;
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
And breathes a browner horror on the woods. 170
Sad proof how well a lover can obey!
Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain,
Confefs'd within the flave of love and man.
Affift me, heav'n! but whence arofe that pray'r?
Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,
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,
Now turn'd to heav'n, I weep my past offence,
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,