N thefe deep folitudes and awful cells,
Where heav'nly-penfive, contemplation dwells,
And ever-mufing melancholy reigns;
What means this tumult in a Veital's veins ?
Why rove my thoughts beyond this lail retreat?
Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?
Yet, yet I love! -From Abelard it came
And Eloifa 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:
Oh write it not, my hand-the name appears
Already written- wafh it out, my tears!
In vain lott Eloïsa weeps and prays,
Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys.
Relentless walls! whofe darksom round contains
Repentant fighs, and voluntary pains:
Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn;
Ye grots and caverns fhagg'd with horrid thorn!
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 my felf to ftone.
Heav'n claims me all in vain, while he has part,
Still rebel nature holds out half my heart;
Nor pray'rs nor fafts its stubborn pulse restrain,
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, ftill usher'd with a tear.
I tremble too where'er my own I find,
Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
Line after line my gufhing eyes o'erflow,
Led thro' a fad variety of woe:
Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom,
Loft in a convent's folitary gloom!
There stern Religion quench'd th' unwilling flame,
There dy'd the best of paffions, Love and Fame.
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 lefs kind than they?
Tears ftill are mine, and thofe I need not fpare,
Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;
No happier task thefe faded eyes purfue;
To read and weep is all they now can do.
Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief; Ah, more than share it! give me all thy grief. Heav'n first 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 wish without her fears impart, Excufe the blush, and pour out all the heart,
Speed the foft intercourfe 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; 60 My fancy form'd thee of angelick kind,
Some Emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind.
Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry ray,
Shone fweetly lambent with celeftial day.
Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n liften'd while you fung;
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 pleasing sense 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.
How oft', when preft to marriage, have I faid, Curfe on all laws but thofe which love has made?
*He was her Preceptor in Philofophy and Divinity.
Love, free as air, at fight of human ties,
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame,
Auguft her deed, and facred be her fame;
Before true paffion all those views remove,
Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love? 80
The jealous God, when we profane his fires,
Those restlefs paffions in revenge infpires,
And bids them make mistaken mortals groan,
Who feek in love for ought but love alone.
Should at my feet the world's great master fall,
Himself, his throne, his world, I'd fcorn 'em all:
Not Cæfar's emprefs wou'd I deign to prove;
No, make me miftrefs to the man I love;
If there be yet another name, more free,
More fond than mistress, make me that to thee!
Oh happy state! when fouls each other draw,
When love is liberty, and nature, law:
All then is full, poffeffing, and poffefs'd,
No craving void left aking in the breast :
Ev'n thought meets thought, e'er from the lips it part,95 And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart. This fure is blifs (if blifs on earth there be)
And once the lot of Abelard and me.
Alas how chang'd! what fudden horrors rife?
A naked Lover bound and bleeding lies!
Where, where was Elöife? her voice, her hand,
Her ponyard, had oppos'd the dire command.
Barbarian ftay! that bloody ftroke restrain;
The crime was common, commcn be the pain.
I can no more; by fhame, by rage fupprefs'd,
Let tears, and burning blushes fpeak the rest.
Carit thou forget that fad, that folemn day,
When victims at yon' altar's foot we lay?
Can't thou forget what tears that moment fell,
When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell? 110
As with cold lips I kifs'd the facred veil,
The shrines all trembled, and the lamps grew pale:
Heav'n fcarce believ'd the conqueft it furvey'd,
And Saints with wonder heard the vows I made.
Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew,
Not on the Crofs my eyes were fix'd, but you:
Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call,
And if I lofe thy love, I lofe my all.
Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe; Thofe ftill at leaft are left thee to beftow.
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 prefs'd;
Give all thou canft-and let me dream the reft.
Ah no! inftruct me other joys to prize,
With other beauties charm my partial eyes,
Full in my view fet all the bright abode,
And make my foul quit Abelard for God.
Ah think at least thy flock deferves thy care,
Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r.
From the falfe world in early youth they fled,
By thee to mountains, wilds, and deferts led.
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