This devout caft of mind, turns her thoughts towards monaftic objects: and recollecting that her Abelard was the founder of the monaftery, fhe intreats him at least to vifit his flock. This circumftance of his being the founder of the monaftery, affords room for fome very just and pathetic reflections, in which fuch donations as are extorted by prieftly artifice, and benefactions bequeathed through fear, to avert the justice of offended heaven, are keenly fatirized in the following beautiful lines, of which the second prefents the most lively and poetical imagery.

"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 raise, "And only vocal with the Maker's praise."

There is great address in thus artfully introducing moral fentiments in the midst of pure defcription, which feize the mind as it were by furprize, and make a more forcible impreffion, than a profeffed and direct application.

But the power of defcription was, perhaps, never carried higher than in the lines which immediately follow, wherein the gloom of the convent is thrown into fuch awful fhades, that every appropriated epithet impreffes the mind with a folemn, yet not unpleafing fadnefs.

"In these lone walls (their days eternal bound) "The mofs-grown domes with Spiry 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."

She then laments in the most plaintive strains, that his presence being wanting to brighten this gloomy scene, every object wears a mournful afpect, and that he is wholly unfufceptible of the few pensive pleasures, which are calculated to footh the mind of a reclufe.

"The darksome pines that o'er "clin'd

yon rocks re

"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 visionary maid."

Nothing can be more delightfully picturesque than this description: there is no reading it without being, in some degree, disposed to relish these folitary and contemplative enjoyments.

But this folemn scene of penfive pleafing meditation, is fuddenly contrafted by a moft beautiful and striking perfonification of MELANCHOLY, whose baneful influence and effect is

fo affectingly described, that a reader of any fenfibility feels a gloom gradually diffuse itself over his mind.

"But o'er the twilight groves and dusky 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 66 green,

"Deepens the murmur of the falling floods, "And breathes a browner horror on the "woods."

It is candidly and juftly obferved by the effayist fo often mentioned, that the figurative expreffions, throws, breathes, and browner horror, are fome of the ftrongest and boldeft in the English language.

The image of the goddefs MELANCHOLY, who fits brooding over the convent, and throwing a contagious horror on every object around her, is boldly conceived and expreffed with great poetical enthusiasm and fublimity.

At the fame time impartiality obliges me to obferve that even in this description, excellent as it is, there feems to be a faulty anti-climax. For, after having reprefented MELANCHOLY, as throwing round her--

" A

"A-death-like filence, and a dread repofe,"

It is furely lowering the idea greatly, to add, in the very next line, that--

"Her gloomy presence faddens all the scene."

Having painted this fcene of horror, Eloifa very naturally laments that she is doomed to fay there for ever, and that death alone can releafe her: nay, that even after death, her remains must abide there.

"And here, ev'n then, fhall my cold duft remain,

"Here all its frailties, all its flames refign, "And wait till'tis no fin to mix with thine.

1

I have often wondered how this laft line could fteal into this excellent poem, which is fo remarkable for harmonious verfification. Though there is a pathos and delicacy of fentiment conveyed in this line, yet there is nothing like poetry in it. It is, in truth, abfolutely flat and profaic but it is, perhaps, the only bad verfe in the whole poem.

The idea of mingling her afhes with Abelard, raises a tumult of conflicting paffions, which divide and diftract her foul: One while fhe breathes all the devotion of a veftal; then again the gives a loofe to all the fondness of a wo

man.

* Ah

"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 arose that "pray'r?

"Sprung it from piety, or from despair ?”

There is great beauty in this self-interrogation, refpecting the oppofite motives of her prayer, which are very nicely diftinguished: and the continues to recount the various emotions by which she is alternately agitated—

"I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought; "I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;

"Now turn'd to heav'n, I weep my paft offence, "Now think of thee, and curfe my inno"cence."

Conscious of the difficulty of composing such various perturbations, fhe thus exclaims

"Ere fuch a foul regains its peaceful state, "How often must it love, how often hate! "How often hope, despair, resent, regret, "Conceal, difdain,--do all things but forget."

Then in a bold and fublime ftrain, fhe breaks forth into a kind of facred rapture.

"But let heav'n feize it, all at once 'tis fir'd; "Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but " inspir'd!"

In