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!) 295 Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!
O Grace serene! O virtue heav'nly fair! Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care! 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,) 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 ev'ry 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 may have rest, I go, Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow: 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-in sacred vestments may'st thou stand, The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand, Present the cross before my lifted eye, Teach me at once, and learn of me to die. Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloïsa see! It will be then no crime to gaze on me. See from my cheek the transient roses fly! See the last sparkle languish in my eye! Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er, And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more. O Death all-eloquent! you only prove What dust we dote on, when 'tis man we love. Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy, (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy,) In trance ecstatic may the pangs be drown'd, Bright clouds descend, and Angels watch thee round, 340 From op'ning skies may streaming glories shine, 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, When this rebellious heart shall beat no more; If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads, And drink the falling tears each other sheds; Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd, "Oh may we never love as these have lov'd!" From the full choir when loud Hosannas rise, And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice, Amid that scene if some relenting eye Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie, Devotion's self shall steal a thought from heav'n, One human tear shall drop, and be forgiv'n.
And sure, if fate some future bard shall join, In sad similitude of griefs to mine, Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore, And image charms he must behold no more; Such if there be, who love so long, so well; Let him our sad, our tender story tell! The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost; He best can paint 'em who shall feel 'em most.
PROLOGUE TO MR. ADDISON'S TRAGEDY
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold: For this the Tragic Muse first trod the stage, Commanding tears to stream thro' ev'ry age; Tyrants no more their savage nature kept, And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept. Our author shuns by vulgar springs to move The hero's glory, or the virgin's love; In pitying Love, we but our weakness show, And wild Ambition well deserves its woe. Here tears shall flow from a more gen'rous cause, Such tears as Patriots shed for dying Laws: He bids your breasts with ancient ardour rise, And calls forth Roman drops from British eyes. Virtue confess'd in human shape he draws, What Plato thought, and godlike Cato was: No common object to your sight displays, But what with pleasure Heav'n itself surveys,
A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling with a falling state. While Cato gives his little Senate laws, What bosom beats not in his Country's cause? Who sees him act, but envies ev'ry deed? Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed? Ev'n when proud Cæsar 'midst triumphal cars, The spoils of nations, and the pomp of wars, Ignobly vain, and impotently great, Show'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn in state; As her dead Father's rev'rend image past,
The pomp was darken'd, and the day o'ercast; The Triumph ceas'd, tears gush'd from ev'ry eye; The World's great Victor pass'd unheeded by; Her last good man dejected Rome ador'd, And honour'd Cæsar's less than Cato's sword.
Britons, attend: be worth like this approv'd, And show, you have the virtue to be mov'd. With honest scorn the first fam'd Cato view'd Rome learning arts from Greece, whom she subdu'd ; 40
Your scene precariously subsists too long On French translation, and Italian song. Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage, Be justly warm'd with your own native rage: Such Plays alone should win a British ear,
As Cato's self had not disdain'd to hear.
H. St. John Lord Bolingbroke
OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN WITH RESPECT TO THE UNIVERSE
Of Man in the abstract.-I. That we can judge only with regard to our own system, being ignorant of the relation of systems and things, ver. 17, etc. II. That Man is not to be deemed imperfect, but a Being suited to his place and rank in the creation, agreeable to the general Order of things, and conformable to Ends and Relations to him unknown, ver. 35, etc. III. That it is partly upon his ignorance of future events, and partly upon the hope of a future state, that all his happiness in the present depends, ver. 77, etc. IV. The pride of aiming at more knowledge, and pretending to more Perfection, the cause of Man's error and misery. The impiety of putting himself in the place of God, and judging of the fitness or unfitness, perfection or imperfection, justice or injustice, of his dispensations, ver. 113, etc. V. The absurdity of conceiting himself the final cause of the creation, or expecting that perfection in the moral world which is not in the natural, ver. 131, etc. VI. The unreasonable of his complaints against Providence, while on the one hand he demands the Perfections of the Angels and on the other bodily qualifications of the Brutes; though to possess any of the sensitive faculties in a higher degree would render him miserable, ver. 173, etc. VII.
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