All is not Heaven's while Abelard has part,
Still rebel Nature holds out half my heart;
Nor prayers nor fafts its stubborn pulse restrain,
Nor tears for ages taught to flow in vain.
Soon as thy letters trembling I unclofe, That well-known name awakens all my woes. Oh name for ever fad! for ever dear!
Still breath'd in fighs, ftill usher'd with a tear.
I tremble too, where'er my own I find,
Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow,
Led through a fad variety of woe:
Now warm in love, now withering in my bloom,
Loft in a convent's folitary gloom!
There stern Religion quench'd th' unwilling flame,
There dy'd the beft of paffions, Love and Fame.
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 power away;
And is my Abelard less kind than they?
Tears ftill 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 fad relief; Ah, more than share it, give me all thy grief, Heaven 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,
Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart,
Speed the foft intercourfe from foul to foul,
And waft a figh from Indus to the Pole.
Thou know'ft how guiltless firft I met thy flame, When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name; My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,
Some emanation of th' All-beauteous Mind.
Those smiling eyes, attempering every ray,
Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.
Guiltless I gaz'd; heaven 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 through the paths of pleasing sense I ran,
Nor wifh'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man.
Dim and remote the joys of faints I fee;
Nor envy them that heaven 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? 80
The jealous God, when we prophane his fires,
Those restless paffions in revenge inspires,
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,
Himself, his throne, his world, I'd fcorn them 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!
O! happy state! 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 breaft:
Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part,
And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart.
This fure is blifs (if blifs 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 poynard had oppos'd the dire command.
Barbarian, ftay! that bloody stroke restrain;
The crime was common, common be the pain.
I can no more; by fhame, by rage suppress'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 thou forget what tears that moment fell,
When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell? 110
As with cold lips I kifs'd the facred veil,
The shrines all trembled, and the lamps grew pale:
Heaven scarce believ'd the Conqueft it furvey'd,
And Saints with wonder heard the vows I made.
Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew,
Not on the cross my eyes were fix'd, but you:
Not grace, or zeał, love only was my call,
And if I lofe thy love, I lofe my all
Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe;
Thofe ftill at leaft 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 reft.
Ah, no inftruck 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 least thy flock deserves thy care,
Plants of thy hand, and children of thy prayer.
From the falfe world in early youth they fled,
By thee to mountains, wilds, and deferts 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 ftores
Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;
No filver faints, by dying mifers given,
Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited Heaven;
But fuch plain roofs as Piety could raise,
And only vocal with the Maker's praise.
In these lone walls (their days eternal bound)
These 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 sadness, or continual tears.
See how the force of others prayers I try,
O pious fraud of amorous charity!)
But why should I on others prayers depend?
Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!
Ah, let thy handmaid, sister, daughter, move,
And all those tender names in one, thy love!
The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin❜d,
Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind,
The wandering 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.
But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves,
Long-founding aifles, and intermingled graves,
Black Melancholy fits, and round her throws
A death-like filence, and a dread repofe;
Her gloomy prefence faddens all the scene,
Shades every flower, and darkens every green,
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, ev'n then, shall my cold duft remain;
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