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Now turn'd to heav'n, I weep my past offence,

Now think of thee, and curse my innocence.
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,

'Tis sure the hardest science to forget:


How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense,

And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence?
How the dear object from the crime remove,
Or how distinguish penitence from love?
Unequal task! a passion to resign,


For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine.

Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,


How often must it love, how often hate!
How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
Conceal, disdain,—do all things but forget.
But let heav'n seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd;
Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!
Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue,

Renounce my love, my life, myself and you.
Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he
Alone can rival, can succeed to thee.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot:
Eternal sun-shine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resigned;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep ;"
Desires compos'd, affections ever even ;



Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to heav'n. Grace

Grace shines around her with serenest beams,


And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.

For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,

And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,
For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins hymeneals sing,
To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day.

Far other dreams my erring soul employ,
Far other raptures, of unholy joy:


When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day, 225
Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away,
Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free,
my loose soul unbounded springs to thee.

Oh curst, dear horrors of all-conscious night!
How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
Provoking demons all restraint remove,
And stir within me every source of love.

I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,
And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms.
I wake: -no more I hear, no more I view,

The phantom flies me, as unkind as you.

I call aloud, it hears not what I


I stretch my empty arms; it glides away.



To dream once more I close my willing eyes;
Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise;


Alas, no more! methinks we wand'ring go Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe,


Where round some mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies; 245.
Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise.

I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find,
And wake to all the griefs I left behind.

For thee the fates, severely kind, ordain

A cool suspence from pleasure and from pain; 250
Thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repose ;

No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows.
Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow,
Or moving spirit bade the waters flow ;
Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv❜n,
And mild as op'ning gleams of promis'd heav'n.
Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to dread?
The torch of Venus burns not for the dead.
Nature stands check'd! religion disapproves ;
Ev'n thou art cold-yet Eloisa loves.

Ah hopeless, lasting flames; like those that burn
To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn.
What scenes appear where'er I turn my view!
The dear ideas, where I fly, pursue,



Rise in the grove, before the altar rise,


Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes.

I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee,
Thy image steals between my God and me,
Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear,
With ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear.

270 When

When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll,
And swelling organs lift the rising soul,

One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,
Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight:
In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd,
While altars blaze, and angels tremble round.

While prostrate here in humble grief I lie,
Kind, virtuous drops just gath'ring in my eye,
While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll,
And dawning grace is op'ning on my soul:
Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art!
Oppose thyself to heav'n; dispute my heart:
Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes,
Blot out each bright idea of the skies ;



Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those tears;
Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs;

Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode ;
Assist the fiends, and tear me from my God!
No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole;


Rişe Alps between us! and whole oceans roll! 290
Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me,
Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee.

Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign ;

Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.

Fair eyes, and tempting looks, (which yet I view!)

Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu !

Oh, grace serene! oh, virtue heav'nly fair!

Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!

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Fresh-blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky!

And faith, our early immortality!

Enter, each mild, each amicable guest;

Receive, and wrap me, in eternal rest !

See in her cell sad Eloïsa spread,


Propt on some 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 shrine I heard a hollow sound.
"Come, sister, come! (it said, or seem'd to say)

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Thy place is here, sad sister, come away;


"Once, like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd, "Love's victim then, tho' now a sainted maid: "But all is calm in this eternal sleep;

"Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep,
"Ev'n superstition loses every fear:

"For God, not man, absolves our frailties here."
I come, I come! prepare your roseate bow'rs,
Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs.
'Thither, where sinners have rest, I




Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow; 320
Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay,

And smooth my passage to the realms of day:
See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,

Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul!
Ah no-
The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,

-in sacred vestments may'st thou stand, 325


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