Ah, no! instruct me other joys to prize, With other beauties charm iny partial eyes! Full in my view set all the bright abode, And make my soul quit Abelard for God. Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care, Plants of thy hand, and children of thy prayer. 130 From the false world in early youth they fled, By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led. You raised these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'd, And Paradise was open'd in the wild. These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets in vain, Confess'd within the slave of Love and man. Assist me, Heav'n! but whence arose that prayer? Sprung it from piety or from despair? 180 I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought; Now think of thee, and curse my innocence. 'T is sure the hardest science to forget! 190 How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense, And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence ? How the dear object from the crime re move, Or how distinguish Penitence from Love? Unequal task! a passion to resign, For hearts so touch'd, so pierced, so lost as mine: Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state, How often must it love, how often hate! How often hope, despair, resent, regret, Conceal, disdain. do all things but for get! 200 But let Heav'n seize it, all at once 't is fired; Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspired! O come! O teach me Nature to subdue, Renounce my love, my life, myself — and You: Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he Alone can rival, can succeed to thee. How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot; Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, Each prayer accepted, and each wish resign'd; .210 Labour and rest, that equal periods keep; Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep; Desires composed, affections ever ev'n; Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n. Grace shines around her with serenest beams, And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams. For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms, And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes; To dream once more I close my willing eyes; 240 Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise! Where round some mould'ring tower pale ivy creeps, And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps. Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies; Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise. I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find, And wake to all the griefs I left behind. For thee the Fates, severely kind, ordain A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain; 250 Thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repose; No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows. Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow, Or moving spirit bade the waters flow; Heav'n. Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to dread? The torch of Venus burns not for the dead. Nature stands check'd; Religion disap proves; 260 Ev'n thou art cold-yet Eloisa loves. Ah, hopeless, lasting flames; like those that burn To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn! What scenes appear where'er I turn my view; The dear ideas, where I fly, pursue; And swelling organs lift the rising soul, flight, Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight: 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), Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu ! O Grace serene! O Virtue heav'nly fair! And Faith, our early immortality! 300 See in her cell sad Eloisa 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; 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 inan, absolves our frailties here.' I come, I come! prepare your roseate bowers, Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flowers. Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go, Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow; 320 Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay, And smooth my passage to the realms of day: See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roll, Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul! Ah, no― in sacred vestments mayst thou stand, The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand, Then too, when Fate shall thy fair frame (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy), In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drown'd, Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round; 340 From opening 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; |