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ahllretch! believed the Spouse of God in vain Confefod within the Slave of Love and Man.

El. to ab.

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N thefe deep folitudes and awful cells,
Where heav'nly-penfive contemplation dwells,
And ever-mufing melancholy reigns;
What means this tumult in a Vestal's veins ?
Why rove my thoughts beyond this last 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! reft ever unreveal'd,
Nor pass these lips in holy filence feal'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-wafh it out, my tears!
In vain loft Eloïfa weeps and prays,




Her heart ftill dictates, and her hand obeys.
Relentless walls! whofe darkfome round contains

Repentant fighs, and voluntary pains :

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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 pulfe reftrain,
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 gushing 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 best 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 still are mine, and those I need not spare, 45
Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;




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No happier task these faded eyes pursue;
To read and weep is all they now can do.

Then fhare thy pain, allow that fad 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 infpires,
Warm from the foul, and faithful to its fires,
The virgin's wifh without her fears impart,
Excuse the blush, 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, 61

Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind.
Thofe fmiling 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 pleafing fenfe I ran,

Nor wish'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 lofe for thee.





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

Philofophy and Divinity.

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