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No more my locks in ringlets curl'd diffuse Now by the Nine, those powers ador'd by me, The costly sweetness of Arabian dews,

And Love, the god that ever waits on thee, Nor braids of gold the varied tresses biud,

When first I heard (from whom I hardly knew) That fly disorder'd with the wanton wind:

That you were fed, and all my joys with you, For whom should Sappho use such arts as these? Like some sad statue, speechless, pale I stood, He's gone, whom only she desir'd to please! Grief chill'd my breast, and stopp'd my freezing Cupid's light darts my tender bosom move, No sigh to rise, no tear liad power to flow, (blood; Still is there cause for Sappho still to love: Fix'd in a stupid lethargy of woe: So from my birth the Sisters fix'd my doom, But when its way th' impetuous passion found, And gave to Venus all my life to come ;

I rend my tresses, and my breast I wound ; Or, while my Muse in melting notes complains, I rave, then weep; I curse, and then complain; My yielding heart keeps measure to my strains. Now swell to rage, now melt to tears again. By charms like thine, which all my soul have won, Not fiercer pangs distract the mournful dame, Who might not--ah! who would not be undone ? Whose first-born infant feeds the funeral faina, For those Aurora Cephalus might scorn,

My scornful brother with a smile appears, And with fresh blushes paint the conscious morn: Insults my woes, and triumphs in my tears : For those might Cynthia lengthen Phaon's sleep,

His hated image ever haunts my eyes ; And bid Endymion nightly tend his sheep : “ And why this grief? thy daughter lives," he cries. Vems for those had rapt thee to the skies, Stung with my love, and furious with despair, But Mars on thee might look with Venus' eyes. All torn my garments, and my bosom bare, O scarce a youth, yet scarce a tender boy! My woes, thy crimes, I to the world proclaim, O useful time for lovers to employ !

Such inconsistent things are love and shame! Pride of thy age, and glory of thy race,

'Tis thou art all my care and my delight, Come to these arms, and melt in this embrace ! My daily longing, and my dream by night: The vows you never will return, receive ;

O night, more pleasing than the brightest day, And take at least the love you will not give.

When Fancy gives what abscnce takes away, See, while I write, my words are lost in tears!

And, dress'd in all its visionary charms, The less my sense, the more my love appears. Restores my fair deserter to my arins ! Sure 'twas not much to bid one kind adieu ; Then round your neck in wanton wreaths I twine ; (At least to feign was never hard to you !) (said; | Then you, methinks, as fondly circle mine :

Farewell, iny Lesbian love,” you might have A thousand tender words I hear and speak; Or coldly thus, “ Farewell, oh Lesbian maid !” A thousand melting kisses give, and take : No tear did you, no parting kiss receive,

Then fiercer joys; I blush to mention these, Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve. Yet, while I blush, confess how much they pleasca No lover's gift your Sappho could confer,

But when, with day, the sweet delusions ny, And wrongs and woes were all you left with her. And all things wake to life and joy, but I ; No charge I gave you, and no charge could give, As if once more forsaken, I complain, But this, “ Be mindful of our loves, and live." And close my eyes to dream of you again :

Per tibi, qui nunquam longe discedat, Amorem, Cni colar infelix? aut cui placuisse laborem? Perque novem juro, numina nostra, Deas; Ille mihi cultus unicus auctor abest.

Cum inihi nescio quis, fugiunt tua gaudia, dixite Molle menm levibus cor est violabile telis;

Nec me flere diu, nec potuisse loqui : Et semper causa est, cur ego semper ainem. Et lacrymæ deerant oculis, et lingua palato: five ita nascenti legem dixere sorores,

Astrictum gelido frigore pectus erat. Nec data sunt vita tila severa meæ ;

Postquam se dolor invenit ; nec pectora plangi, five abeunt studia in mores, artesque magistræ, Nec puduit scissis exululare comis: Ingenium nobis molle Thalia facit.

Non aliter quam si nati pia mater adempti Quid mirum, si me primæ lanuginis ætas

Portet ad extructos corpus inanc rogos. Abstulit, atque anni, quos vir amare potest? Gaudet, et e nostro crescit mærore Charaxus Hunc nc pro Cephalo raperes, Aurora, tinnebam : Frater; et ante oculos itque reditque meos Et faceres; sed te prima rapina tenct.

Utque pudenda mei videatur causa doloris : Vitnc si conspiciat, quæ conspicit omnia, Phæbe; Quid dolet hæc? certe filia vivit, ait. Jussus erit somnos continuare Phaon.

Non veniunt in idem pudor atque amor: omnc Jane Venus in cælum curru vexisset eburno;

videbat Sed videt et Marti posse placere suo.

Vulgus; eram laccro pectus aperta sinu.
O nec adhuc jurenis, nec jam puer ! utilis ætas ! Tu mihi cura, Phaon ; te somnia nostra reducunt;
O decus, atque ævi gloria magna tui !

Somnia formoso candidiora die.
Hnc ades, inque sinus, forinose, relabere nostros: Ilic te invenio, quanquain regionibus absis ;
Non ut ames oro, verum ut amare sinaş.

Sed non longa satis guadia somnus habet.
Scribimus, et lacrymis oculi rorantur obortis : Sæpe tuos nostra cervice oncrare lacertos,

Aspice, quam sit in hốc multa litura loco. Sæpe tuæ vidcor supposuisse meos. Si tam certus eras hinc ire, modestius isses, Blandior interdum, verisque simillima verba Et modo dixisses : " Lesbi puella, vale."

Eloquor ; et vigilant sensibus ora meis. Non tecnm lacrymas, non oscula summa tulisti ; Oscula cognosco; quæ tu coinmittere linguæ, Denique non timui, quod dolitura fui.

Aptaque consueras accipere, apta dare. Nil de te mecum est, nisi tantum injuria : nec tu, Ulteriora pudet narrare; sed omnia fiunt. · Adinoneat quod te, pignus amantis habes. Et juvat, et sine te non libet esse mihi. Non inandata dedi; neque enim mandata dedissem At cum se Titan ostendit, et omnia secum Ulla, nisi ut aolles innemor esse putin

Tam cito me soubos destituisse queros.


Then frantic rise, and like some fury rove But when from hence he plung'd into the main, Thro' lonely plains, and thro' the silent grove ; Deucalion scorn'd, and Pyrrha lov'd in vain. As if the silent grove, and lonely plains,

Haste, Sappho, haste, from high Leucadia throw That knew my pleasures, could relieve my pains. Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below !** I view the grotto, once the scene of love,

She spoke, and vanish'd with the voice I rise, The rocks around, the hanging roofs above, And silent tears fall trickling from my eyes. That charm'd me more, with native moss o'er- 1 go, ye nyinphs! those rocks and seas to prove ; grown,

How much I fear, but ah, how much I love! Than Phrygian marble, or the Parian stone. I go, ye nymphs, where furious love inspires; I find the shades that veil'd our joys before ; Let feniale fears submit to female fires. But, Phaon gone, those shades delight no more. To rocks and seas I fly from Phaon's hate, Here the press'd herbs with bending tops betray And hope from seas and rocks a milder fate. Where oft entwin'd in amorous folds we lay; Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow, I kiss that earth which once was press'd by you, And softly lay me on the waves below! And all with tears the withering herbs bedew. And thou, kind Love, my sinking limbs sustain, For thee the fading trees appear to mourn, Spread thy soft wings, and waft me o'er the main, And birds defer their songs till thy return: Nor let a lover's death the guiltless food prophane! Night shades the groves, and all in silence lie, On Phoebus' shrine my harp l'il then bestow, All but the mournful Philomel and I:

And this inscription shall be plac'd below. With mournful Philomel I join my strain, Here she who sung, to him that did inspire, Of Tereus she, of Phaon I complain.

Sappho to Phoebus consecrates her lyre ; A spring there is, whose silver waters show, What suits with Sappho, Phoebus, suits with thee ; Clear as a glass, the shining sands below; The gift, the giver, and the god agree." A flowery lotos spreads its arms above,

But why, alas, relentless youth, ah, why Shades all its banks, and seems itself a grove; To distant seas must tender Sappho fly? Eternal greens the mossy margin grace,

Thy charms than those may far more powerful be, Watch'd by the sylvan Genius of the place. And Phæbus' self is less a god to me. Here as I lay, and swell’d with tears the flood, Ah! canst thou doom me to the rocks and sea, Before my sight a watery virgin stood:

O far more faithless, and more hard than they? She stood and cry'd, "you that love in vain! Ah! canst thou rather see this tender breast Fly hence, and seek the fair Leucadian main. Dash'd on these rocks, than to thy bosom press'd; There stands a rock, from whose impending steep This breast, which once, in vain! you lik'd so well; Apollo's fane surveys the rolling deep;

Where the Loves play'd, and where the Muses There injur'd lovers, leaping from above,

Alas! the Muses now no more inspire, (dwell? Their flames extinguish, and forget to love. Untun'd my lute, and silent is my lyre ; Deucalion once with hopeless fury burn'd, My languid numbers have forgot to fox, In vain he lov'd, relentless Pyrrha scorn'd : And fancy sinks beneath a weight of woe.

Hinc se Deucalion Pyrrhæ succensus amore Antra nemusque peto, tanquam nemus antraque Misit, et illæso corpore pressit aquas. prosint.

Nec mora : versus amor tetigit lentissima Pyrrhe Conscia deliciis illa fuere tuis.

Pectora; Deucalion igne levatus erat. Illuc mentis inops, ut quam furialis Erichtho Hanc legein locus ille tenet, pete protinus altam Impulit, in collo crine jacente feror.

Leucada ; nec saxo desiluisse time.” Antra vident oculi scabro pendentia topho, Ut monuit, cum voce abiit, Egu frigida surgo :

Quæ mihi Mygdonii marmoris instar erant. Nec gravidæ lacrymas continuere genæ. Invenio sylvam, quæ sæpe cubilia nobis

Ibimus, ô nyniphæ, monstrataque saxa petemus. Præbuit, et multa texit opaca coma.

Sit procul insano victus amore timor. [hito. At non invenio dominum sylvæque, meumque. Quicquid erit, melius quam nunc erit: auta, suo Vile solum locus est : dos erat ille loci.

Et mea non magnum corpora pondus habent. Agnovi pressas noti mihi cespitis herbas :

Tu quoque, mollis amor, pennas suppone cadenti : De nostro curvum pondere gramen erat.

Ne sim Leucadiæ mortua crimen aquæ. Incubui, tetigique locum qna parte fuisti; Inde chelyn Phæbo communia munera ponam :

Grata prius lacrymas combibit herba meas. Et sub ea versus unus et alter erunt. Quinetiam rami positis lugere videntur

“ Grata lyram posui tibi, Phæbe, poëtria Sappho : Frondibus; et nullæ dulce queruntur aves. Convenit illa inihi, convenit illa tibi." Sola virum non ulta pie mæstissima mater Cur tamen Actiacas miseram me mittis ad oras, Concinit Ismarium Daulias ales [tyn.

Cum profugum possis ipse referre pedem? Ales Ityn, Sappho desertos cantat amores : Tu mihi Leucadiâ potes esse salubrior undâ : Hactenus, ut media cætera nocte silent.

Et forma et meritis tu mihi Phæbus eris. Est nitidus, vitroque magis perlucidus omni, An potes, ô scopulis undaque ferocior illa,

Fons sacer; hunc multi numen habere putant. Si moriar, titulum mortis habere meæ ? Quem supra ramos expandit aquatica Iotos, At quanto melius jungi mea pectora tecum, Una nemus; tenero cespite terra viret.

Quam poterant saxis præcipitanda dari ! Hic ego cum lassos posuissem fletibus artus, Hæc sunt illa, Phaon, quæ tu laudare solebas; Constitit ante oculos Naïas una meos.

Visaque sunt toties ingeniosa tibi. Constitit, et dixit, “ Quoniam non ignibus æquis Nunc vellem facunda forent : dolor artibus obstat; Uteris, Ambracias terra petenda tibi.

Ingeniumque meis substitit omne malis. Phæbus ab excelso, quantum patet, aspicit æquor : Non mihi respondent veteres in carmina vires. Actiacum populi Leucadiumque vocant,

Plectra dolore tacent: muta dolore lyra este


Ve Lesbian virgins, and ve Lesbian dames,

those celebrated letters (out of which the folThemes of my verse, and objects of my flames, lowing is partly extracted) which give so lively No more your groves with my glad songs shall ring, a picture of the struggles of grace and nature, No more these hands shall touch the trembling virtue and passion. My Phaon's fled, and I those arts resign, (string: (Wretch that I am, to call that Phaon mine!) Return, fair youth, and bring along

Joy to my soul, and vigour to my song:
Absent from thee, the poet's Aame expires;

In these deep solitudes and awful cells,
But ah! how fiercely burrì the lover's fires?

Where heavenly-pensive Contemplation dwells, Gods! can no prayers, no sighs, no numbers move And ever inusing Melancholy reigns; One savage heart, or teach it how to love

What means this tumult in a vestal's veins ? The winds my prayers, my sighs, my numbers Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat? The Aying winds have lost them all in air! [bear, Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat ? Oh when, alas! shall more auspicious gales

Yet, yet I love! From Abelard it came, To these fond eyes restore thy welcome sails?

And Eloisa yet must kiss the name. If you retum-ah why these long delays?

Dear, fatal name! rest ever unreveald, Pour Sappho dies while careless Phaon stays.

Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd : 0, launch thy bark, nor fear the watery plain ;

Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Venus for thee shall smooth her native main.

Where, mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies: O launch thy bark, secure of prosperous gales ;

0, write it not, my hand--the name appears Cupid for thee shall spread the swelling sails.

Already written--wash it out, my tears! If you will fiy--(yet ah! what cause can be,

In vain lost Eloïsa weeps and prays, Too cruel youth, that you should fly from me?)

Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. If not from Phaon I must hope for ease,

Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains Ah let me seek it from the raging seas :

Repentant sigbs, and voluntary pains : To raging seas unpity'd I'll remove,

Ye rugged rocks! wbich holy knces have worn; And either cease to live, or cease to love!

Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn!

Shrines! where their vigils pale-eved virgins keep; Lesbides æquoteæ, nupturaque nuptaque proles ;

And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep! Lesbides, Æolia nomina dicta lyra ;

Though cold like you, unmov'd and silent growth, Lesbides, infainem quæ me fecistis amatæ ;

I have not yet forgot myself to stone. Desinite at citharas turba venire meas.

All is not Heaven's while Abelard has part, Abstulit omne Phaon, quod vobis ante placebat.

Still rebel Nature holds out half my heart; (Me miseram! dixi quam modo pene, meus !)

Nor prayers nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain, Efficite ut redeat: vates quoque vestra redibit.

Nor tears, for ages taught to flow in vain. Ingenio vires ille dat, ille rapit.

Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,

That well-known name awakens all my woes. Ecquid ago precibus ? pectusne agreste movetur?

Oh, name for ever sad! for ever dear! An riget: et zephyri verba caduca ferunt *

Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear Qui mea verba ferunt, veliem tua vela referrent. Hoc te, si saperes, lente, decebat opus.

I tremble too, where'er iny own I find, Sive redis, puppique tuæ votiva parantur

Some dire misfortune follows close behind.

Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow,
Munera ; quid laceras pectora nostra mora ?
Solve ratem: Venus orta mari, mare præstat eunti. Now warm in love, now withering in my bloom,

Led through a sad variety of woe:
Aura dabit cursum ; tu modo solve ratem.
Ipse gubernabit residens in pappe Cupido:

Lost in a convent's solitary glooin!
Ipse dabit tenera vela legetque manu,

There stern Religion quench'd th' unwilling flame, Sive juvat longe fugisse Pelasgida Sappho ;

There dy'd the best of passions, love and fame.

Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join (Non tamen invenics, cur ego digna fuga.) so saltem miseræ, crudelis, epistola dicat :

Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine.

Nor foes nor Fortune take this power away;
Ut mihi Leucadiæ fata petantur aquæ.]

And is my Abelard less kind than they?
Tars still are mine, and those I need not spare,
Love but demands what else were shed in prayer ;

No happier task these faded eyes pursue;

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 grirf. ARGUMENT.

Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid, LDELARD and Eloisa Aourished in the twelfth cen- Some banish'd lover or some captive maid;

tury; they were two of the most distinguished per- They live, they speak, they breathe what love insons of their age in learning and beauty, but for Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires, [spires, nothing more famous than for their unfortunate The virgin's wish without her fears impart, passion. After a long course of calamities, they Fxcuse the blush, and pour out all the heart, retired each to a several convent, and conse- Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, crated the remainder of their days to religion. And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole. It was many years after this separation, that a - Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame, letter of Abelard's to a friend, which contained When Love approach'd me under Friendship’s name; the history of his misfortune, fell into the hands My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind, of Eloisa. This awakening all ber tenderness, Some emanation of th' All-beauteous Mind. VOL XI


Those smiling eyes, attempering every ray, You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil do
Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.

And Paradise was opend in the wild.
Guiltless I gaz'd; Heavea listen'd while you sung; No weeping orphan saw his father's stores
And truths divine came mended from that tongue. Our shrines irradiate, or unblaze the floors;
From lips like those what precept fail'd to move? No silver saints, by dying misers given,
"Too soon they taught me 'twas no sia to love: Here bribe the rage of ill-requited Heaven ;
Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran, But such plain roufs as Piety could raise,
Nor wish'd an angel whom I lov'd a man.

And only vocal with the Maker's praise.
Dim and remote the joys of saints I see,

In these lone walls, (their days eternal bound) Nor envy them that Bearen I los for thee. These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'da

How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said, Where awsul arches make a noon-day night,
Curse on all laws but those which Love has made! And the dim windows shed a soleinn light;
Love, free as air, at sight of human tics,

Thy eyes diffus'd a recon. iling ray,
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment fies. And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day.
Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame, But now no face divine contentment wears,
August hier deed, and sacred be her fime; 'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears.
Before true pa si in all those views remove; See how the forec of others' prayers I try,
Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to love? (O pious fraud of amorous charity!)
The jealous god, when we prophane bis tires, But why should I on others' prayers depend?
Those restless passions in revenge inspires,

Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend ! And bjes them make mistaken mortals groan, Ah, let thy handmaid, sister, daughter, move, Who seek in love for aught but love alone.

And all those tender names in one, thy lore! Should at my feet the world's great master fall, The darksome pines that o'er you rocks reclin'd Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn them all : Wave high, aud murinur to the hollow wind, Not Cæsar's empress would I deign to prove; The wandering streams that shine between the hills, No, make me mistress to the man I love.

The grots that echo to the tinkling rills, If there be yet another name more free,

The dying gales that pant upou the trees, More fond than mistress, make me that to thee! The lakes thạt quiver to the curling breeze; Oh, happy state! when wuls each other draw, No more these scenes my meditation aid, When love is libʻrty, and Nature law :

Or lull to rest the visionary maid : All then is full, possessing and possess'd,

But o'er the twilight groves and dusky cares,
No craving void left aching in the breast : (part, Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves,
Ev'n thought meets thonght, ere from the lips it Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws
And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart. A deatb-like silence, and a dread repose;
This sure is bliss (if bliss on Earth there be) Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
And once the lot of Abelard and me.

Shades every power and darkens every green,
Alas, how chang'd! what suden horrours rise! | Deepens the murinur of the falling foods,
A nakerl lover bound and bleeding lies !

And breathes a browncr hurrour on the woods.
Where, where was Eloise? her voice, her hand, Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;
Her ponyard had oppusid the dire command. Sad proof how well a Jover, can obey !
Barbarian, stay! that bloodly stroke restrain; Deaih, only Death, ran break the lasting chain;
The crime was common, common be the pain. And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain
I can no more; by shame, by rage suppress'd, Here all its frailties, all its names resign,
Let tears and burning blushes speak the rest. And wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine.

Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day, Ah, wretch! biliev'd the spouse of God in vain, When virtins at yon altar's foot we lay?

Confessd within the slave of love and man,
Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell, Issist ine, Heaven! but whence arose that prayer
When, warm in vonth, I barie the world iarewell ? Sprung it from piety, or froin despair?
As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil,

Er'n here where frozen Chastity retires,
The shrines i trembled and the lamps grew pale : Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
Heaven scarce believ'd the conqnest it survey'd, I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
And saints with wonder heard the vows I made. I mourn the lover, not lament the fault,
Yet then, to those dreari altars as I drew,

Iview my crime, but kindle at the view,
Not on the cross my eyes were fix'd, but you : Repent old pleasures, and solicit new;
Not grace, or zeal, love only was my cal! ;

Now tuu'd to Heaven, I weep my past offence, And if I lose the love, I lose my all.

Vow think of thee, and curse my innocence.
Come! with thy looks, thy worris, relieve my woe; Of all ailliction taught a lover yet,
Those still at least are left thee to bestow.

"Tis sure the hardest science to forget! Still on that breast enamour'ol let me lie,

How shall I lose the sin, yet kecp the sense,
Stilt drink delicious poison from thy eye,

And love th' ofiender, vet letest, th' offence!
Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'u; llow the rear ovject from the crime remove,
Give all thou canst--and let me dream the rest. Or how distinguish panitence froin love?
Ah, no! instruet me other ioys to prize,

Unequal task! a passion to resign,
Wytlı other beauties charın my partial eyes, For Hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine !
Full in my view set all the bright abode,

Ere such a soul gains its peaceful state, And make my soul quit Abelard for God.

How often inust it love, how often hate! Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care, {]ow often hope, despair, resı'nt, regret, Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pra ser. Conceal, disdain,--do all things but forget! From the falso work in early youth they fled, Butlet Heaven seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd : By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts lodo Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!

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Oh, come, oh, teach mé Nature to subulue, One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, Renounce my love, my life, myself—and you. Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight: Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he

In seas of tlatme my plunging soul is drown'd, Alone can rival, can succeed to thee.

While altars blaze, and angels tremble round. How happy is the blameless vestal's lot;

While prostrate here in bumble grief I lie, The world forgetting, by the world forgot! Kind, virtuous drops just gathering in my eye, Eternal sun-sbine of the spotless mind!

While, praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, Each prayer accepted, and each wish resign'd; And dawning grace is opening on my soul: Labour and rest that equal periods keep;

Come, if thou darest, all charming as thou art! “ Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;" Oppose thyself to Heaven; dispute my heart; Desires compos'd, affections ever even;

Corne, with one glance of those deluding eyes Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heaven. Blot out each bright idea of the skies; (tears Grace sbines around her with serenest beams, Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those And whispering angels prompt her golden dreams. Take back my fruitless penitence and pravers; For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,

Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes; Assist the tiends, and tear me from my God! For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring;

No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole; For her white virgins hymenæals sing;

Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll! To sounds of heavenly harps she dies away, Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me, And melts in visions of eternal day.

Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. Far other dreams my crring soul employ, Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign! Far other raptures of unholy joy:

Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine. When, at the close of each sad, sorrowing day, Fair eyes, and tempting looks, (which yet I view !) Fancy restores what Vengeance snatch'd away, Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu! Then Conscience sleeps, and leaving Nature free, ( Grace serene! O Virtue heavenly fair! All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee. Divine oblivion of low-thoughted Care! O rurst, dear horrouis of all-conscious night! Fresh-blooining Hope, gay daughter of the sky! How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight! And Faith, our early immortality! Provoking demons all restraint remove,

Enter, each mild, each amicable guest; And stir within me every source of lore.

Receive and wrap me in eternal rest! I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,

See in her cell sad Eloïsa spread, And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms. Propt on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead. I wake :--no more I hear, no more I view,

In each low wind methinks a spirit calls, The'phantom flies me, as unkind as you.

And more than Echoes talk along the walls. I call alond; it hears not what I say:

Here, as I watch'd the dying lamp around, I stretch my empty arms; it slides away.

From yonder shrine 1 heard a hollow sound. To dream once more I close my willing cyes;

Come, sister, come!” (it said, or seem'd to say) Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise!

Thy place is here, sad sister, come away! Alas, no more! mcthinks we wandering go Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd, Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe, Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid : Where round some mouldering tower pale ivy creeps, But all is calm in this eternal sleep; And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps. Here Grief forgets to groan, and Love to weep: Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies; Ev'n Superstition loses every fear; Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise. For God, not man, absolves our frailties here." 1 shrick, start up, the same sad prospect find, I come, I comc! prepare your roseate howers, And wake to all the griefs I left behind.

Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flowers. For thee the Fates, severely kind, orrlain Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go, A cool suspense from pleasure and froni pain; Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glon; Thy life a long dad calm of fix'd rapoe;

Thou, Abelard ! the last sad office pay, No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows. And smooth any passage to the realras of days Soli as the sea, pe winrls were taught to blow, See my lips treinble, and my eye-balls roll, Or moving spirit bade the waters tow;

Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul! Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiven,

Ah, no-in sacred vestments mayst thou stand, And mild as opening gleams of promis'd Heaven. The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,

Corne, Abelard! for what hast thou to drcad? Present the cross before my lifted eye,
The torch of Venus burns not for the dead.

Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
Xature stands check'd; Religion disapproves ; Ah, then thy once lovd Eloïsa see!
Ev'n thou art cold-ovet Eloisa loves.

It will be then no crime to gaze on me.
Ah, hopeless, lasting flames ! like those that burn See from my cheek the transient roses fly!
To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn. See the last sparkle languish in my eye!

What scenes appear where'er I turn my view ! Till every motion, pulse, and breath be o'er; The dear ideas, where I fv, pursue,

And ev'n iny Abelard be lov'd no more. Rise in the grove, before the altar rise,

() Death all cloquent! you only prove Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes.

What dust we doat on, when 'tis man ve love, I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thre,

Then too, when Fate shall thy fair frame de Thy image steals between my God and me, (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy) (stivy, Thy voi e I seem in every hymn to hear,

In trance extatic may thy pangs be drown'l. With every bead I drop too soft a tear.

Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round, When froin the conser clouds of fragrance roll, Froin opening skies may streaming glories shina, And swelling organs lift the rising soul,

And saints embrace thee with a love like mine

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