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N these deep folitudes and awful cells, Where heav'nly-penfive contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns; What means this tumult in a Vestal's veins ?

Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat? 5
Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?
Yet, yet I love!---From Abelard it came,
And Eloïfa yet must 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---wash it out, my tears!


In vain loft Eloïfa weeps and prays,
Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys.
Relentless walls! whose darksome round con-


tains 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, whose statues 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, 25
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. 30 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. my gushing eyes o'erflow,

Line after line

Led thro' a fad variety of woe:


Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom, Loft in a convent's folitary gloom!

Thereftern 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 fpare, 45
Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;
No happier task these faded eyes pursue;
To read and weep is all they now can do.

Then share thy pain, allow that fad relief; Ah, more than share it, give me all thy grief. 50 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 inspires,

Warm from the foul, and faithful to its fires,
The virgin's wish without her fears impart, 55
Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart,
Speed the foft intercourse from foul to soul,
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



My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,
Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind.

Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry ray,
Shone fweetly lambent with celestial 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 pleasing sense I ran,
Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man. 70
Dim and remote the joys of faints I fee;
Nor envy them that heav'n I lofe for thee.

How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said,
Curfe on all laws but those which love has made ?
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 thofe views remove;
Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?


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


VER. 75.

Love will not be confin'd by Maisterie:

When Maisterie comes, the Lord of Love anon

Flutters his wings, and forthwith is he gone.

Chaucer. P.


The jealous God, when we profane his fires, 81
Those restless paffions in revenge inspires,
And bids them make mistaken mortals
Who seek in love for aught but love alone.
Should at my feet the world's great mafter fall, 85
Himself, his throne, his world, I'd fcorn 'em all:
Not Cæfar's emprefs would I deign to prove ;
No, make me mistress 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, 91
When love is liberty, and nature, law: ¡
All then is full, poffeffing and poffeft,
No craving void left aking in the breast :
Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it

And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart.

This fure is blifs (if bliss on earth there be)
And once the lot of Abelard and me.


Alas how chang'd! what sudden horrors rise! A naked Lover bound and bleeding lies! Where, where was Eloïfe? her voice, her hand! Her ponyard had oppos'd the dire command. Barbarian, ftay! that bloody ftroke restrain; The crime was common, common be the pain.



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