What mean, regardless of yon' mid-
night bell,
These earth-born vifions fad'ning o'er my cell?
What ftrange disorder prompts these thoughts to glow?
Thefe fighs to murmur? and these tears to flow
'Tis fhe, 'tis Eloifa's form reftor'd,
Once a pure faint, and more than faints ador'd:
he comes in all her killing charms confeft,
Glares thro' the gloom, and pours upon my breast,
Bids Heav'n's bright guard from Paraclete remove,
And drags me back to misery and love,
Enjoy thy triumphs, dear delufion! fee
This fad apoftate from his God to thee;
See, at thy call my guilty warmths return,
Flame thro' my blood, and fteal me from my urn.
Yet, yet, frail Abelard ! one effort try,
E'er the laft ling'ring fpark of virtue die;
The deadly, charming forceress controul,
And spite of nature tear her from thy foul.
Long has that foul in thefe unfocial woods,
Where anguish mufes, and where horror broods,
From love's wild vifionary wishes ftray'd,
And fought to lose thy beauties in the Shade,
Faith drop'd a smile, devotion lent her fire,
Woke the keen pang, and fanctify'd defire;
Led me enraptur'd to the bleft abode,
And taught my heart to glow with all its God.
But oh, how weak fair faith and virtue prove!
When Eloifa melts away in love!
When her fond foul impaffion'd, rapt, unveil'd,
No joy forgotten, and no wifh conceal'd,
Flows thro' her pen as infant foftness free,
And fiercely fprings in ecftafies to me.
Ye Heav'ns! as walking in yon' facred fane
With ev'ry feraph warm in ev'ry vein,
Just as remorfe had rous'd an aking figh,
And my torn foul hung trembling in my eye,
In that kind hour thy fatal letter came,
I faw, I gaz'd, I fhiver'd at the Name;
The conscious lamps at once forgot to fhine,
Prophetic tremors shook the hallow'd shrine;
Priefts, cenfers, altars from thy genius fled,
And Heav'n itself shut on me while I read.
Dear, fmiling mischief! Art thou ftill the fame, The ftill pale victim of too soft a flame ?
Warm, as when first with more than mortal fhine
Each melting eye-ball mix'd thy foul with mine?
Have not thy tears for ever taught to flow,
The glooms of abfence, and the pangs of woe,
The pomp of facrifice, the whisper'd tale,
The dreadful vow yet hov'ring o'er thy veil,
Drove this bewitching fondness from thy breaft? Curb'd the loose wish? and form'd each pulse to reft ?
And canft thou ftill, ftill bend the fuppliant knee
To love's dead fhrine ? and weep and figh for me?
Then take me, take me, lock me in thy arms,
Spring to my lips, and give me all thy charms:
No, fly me, fly me, fpread the impatient fail,
Steal the lark's wing, and mount the fwifteft gale;
Skim the laft ocean, freeze beneath the Pole;
Renounce me, curfe me, root me from thy foul;
Fly, fly, for juftice bears the arm of God;
And the grafp'd vengeance only waits his nod.
Are these my wishes? Can they thus afpire?
Does phrenfy form them, or does grace infpire?
Can Abelard, in hurricanes of zeal,
Betray his heart and teach thee not to feel?
Teach thy enamour'd spirit to disown
Each human warmth, and chill thee into ftone?
Ah, rather let my tend'reft accents move
The laft wild tumults of unholy love!
On that dear bofom trembling let me lie,
Pour out my foul, and in fierce raptures die,
Roufe all my paffions, act my joys anew,
Farewell, ye cells! ye martyr'd faints! adieu :
Sleep confcience! fleep, each awful thought be
drown'd,
And feven fold darkness veil the scene around.
What means this paufe? this agonizing start?
This glimpse of Heaven rufhing thro' my heart?
Methinks I fee a radiant cross display'd,
A wounded Saviour bleeds along the shade;
Around th' expiring God bright angels fly,
Swell the loud hymn, and open all the sky:
O fave me, fave me e're the thunders roll,
And Hell's black caverns fwallow up my foul.
Return, ye hours! when guiltless of a stain,
My strong plum'd genius throb'd in ev'ry vein,
When warm'd with all th' Ægyptian fanes in-
fpir'd,
All Athens boafted, and all Rome admir'd;
My merit in its full meridian fhone,
Each rival blushing, and each heart my own.
Return, ye fcenes! ah no, from fancy fly,
On Time's fetch'd wing 'till each idea die,
Eternal fly, fince all that learning gave
Too weak to conquer, and too fond to fave,
To love's foft empire ev'ry with betray'd,
And left my laurel's with'ring in the fhade.
Let me forget, that while deceitful fame
Grafp'd her fhrill trump, and fill'd it with my
Thy ftronger charms, impower'd by Heav'n to
Each faint, each bleft infenfible to love.
At once my foul from bright ambition won,
I hugg'd the dart, I wish'd to be undone,
No more pale science durft my thoughts engage,
Infipid dulnefs hung on ev'ry page;
The midnight lamp no more enjoy'd its blaze,
No more my spirit flew from maze to maze :
Thy glances bade philosophy refign
Her throne to thee, and ev'ry sense was thine,
But what could all the frosts of wisdom do,
Oppos'd to beauty, when it melts in you?
Since thefe dark, cheerlefs, folitary caves,
Death breathing woods, and daily-op'ning graves,
Mif-shapen rocks, wild images of woe,
For ever howling to the deeps below;
Ungenial deferts, where no vernal show'r
Wakes the green herb, or paints th'unfolding flow'r ;
Th'imbrowning glooms thefe holy manfions thed,
The nigh-born horrors brooding o'er my bed,
The dismal scenes black melancholy pours
O'er the fad vifions of enanguifh'd hours;
Lean abftinence, wan grief, low-thoughted care,
Diftracting guilt, and Hell's worft fiend, despair,
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