Before true paffion all those views remove,

Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to love?
The jealous god, when we prophane his fires,
Thofe reftlefs paffions in revenge infpires,
And bids them make mistaken mortals groan,
Who seek in love for aught but love alone.
Should at my feet the world's great master fall,
Himfelf, his throne, his world, I'd scorn '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 ftate, when fouls each other draw,
When love is liberty, and nature law

;

All then is full, poffeffing, and poffefs'd,
No craving void left aching in the breast:

Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part,
And each warm wifh fprings 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 fudden horrors rife!
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.
I can no more; by fhame, by rage fupprefs'd,
Let tears and burning blushes speak the rest.

Canft thou forget that fad, that folemn day,
When victims at yon altar's foot we lay?

Canft

Canft thou forget what tears that moment fell,
When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?
As, with cold lips, I kifs'd the facred veil,

The shrines all trembled, and the lamps grew pale:
Heav'n scarce believ'd the conquest it survey'd,
And faints with wonder heard the vows I made.
Yet then, to thofe dread altars as I drew,
Not on the cross my eyes were fix'd, but you:
Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call;
And if I lose thy love, I lose my all.

Come, with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe;
Those, ftill, at least, are left thee to bestow.
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 rest.
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 leaft, 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 deserts led.
You rais'd thefe hallow'd walls; the defert fmil'd,
And paradife was open'd in the wild.

No weeping orphan faw his father's stores
Our fhrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;
No filver faints, by dying mifers giv❜n,
Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited Heav'n;

But fuch plain roofs as piety could raife, And only vocal with the Maker's praise. In thefe lone walls (their day's eternal bound) Thefe mofs-grown domes with fpiry turrets crown'd, Where awful arches make a noon-day night, And the dim windows fhed a folemn light; Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray, And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day. But now no face divine contentment wears, 'Tis all blank fadnefs, or continual tears. See how the force of others pray'rs I try, (O pious fraud of am'rous charity !). But why should I on other's pray'rs depend? Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend! Ah let thy handmaid, fifter, daughter, move, And all thofe tender names in one, thy love! The darkfome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd, Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, The wand'ring ftreams that shine between the hills, The grots that echo to the tinkling rills, The dying gales that pant upon the trees, The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze; No more these scenes my meditation aid, Or lull to reft the vifionary maid. But, o'er the twilight groves and dufky caves, Long-founding ifles, and intermingled graves, Black Melancholy fits, and round her throws A death-like filence, and a dread repofe; Her gloomy presence faddens all the scene, Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green,

Deepens

Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
And breathes a browner horror on the woods.
Yet here for ever, ever muft I ftay;

Sad proof how well a lover can obey !

Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;
And here, e'en then, fhall my cold duft remain;
Here all its frailties, all its flames refign,

And wait 'till 'tis no fin to mix with thine.

Ah wretch believ'd the spouse of God in vain, Confefs'd, within, the flave of love and man.. Affift me, Heav'n! but whence arofe that pray'r? Sprung it from piety, or from despair? Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires, Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.

I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;

I

mourn the lover, not lament the fault;

I view my crime, but kindle at the view,

Repent old pleasures, and folicit new;

Now, turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my paft offence;
Now think of thee, and curfe my innocence.
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,

"Tis, fure, the hardest fcience to forget!
How fhall I lofe the fin, yet keep the fenfe,
And love th'offender, yet deteft th' offence?
How the dear object from the crime remove,
Or how distinguish penitence from love?
Unequal task! a paffion to refign,

For hearts fo touch'd, fo pierc'd, so lost as mine!
Ere fuch a foul regains its peaceful ftate,
How often must it love, how often hate!

How often hope, defpair, refent, regret,
Conceal, difdain,-do all things but forget?
But let Heav'n feize it, all at once 'tis fir'd;
Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but infpir'd!
Oh come! oh teach me nature to fubdue,

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

How happy is the blameless veftal's lot?
The world forgetting, by the world forgot:
Eternal fun-fhine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish refign'd;
Labour and reft, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient flumbers, that can wake and weep;"
Defires compos'd, affections ever ev'n ;

Tears that delight, and fighs that waft to heav'n.
Grace fhines around her with fereneft beams,
And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading rofe of Eden blooms,
And wings of feraphs fhed divine perfumes,
For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins hymenæals fing,
To founds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
And melts in vifions of eternal day.

Far other dreams my erring foul employ,
Far other raptures, of unholy joy :
When, at the clofe of each fad, forrowing day,
Fancy reftores what vengeance snatch'd away,
Then confcience fleeps, and leaving nature free,
All my loose foul unbounded springs to thee.

O curft