Provoking dæmons all restraint remove,

And stir within me ev'ry source of love.

I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,
And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms.
I wake no more I hear, no more I view ;
The phantom flies me, as unkind as you.
I call aloud; it hears not what I fay:
I ftretch my empty arms; it glides away.
To dream once more, I close my willing eyes;
Ye foft illufions, dear deceits, arife!

Alas, no more! methinks we wand'ring go

Thro' dreary waftes, and weep each other's woe,
Where round fome mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies;
Clouds interpofe, waves roar, and winds arife.
I fhriek, ftart up, the fame fad prospect find,
And wake to all the griefs I left behind.

For thee the Fates, feverely kind, ordain A cool fufpenfe from pleasure and from pain; Thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repose; No pulfe that riots, and no blood that glows. Still as the fea, ere winds were taught to blow, Or moving spirit bad the waters flow; Soft as the flumbers of a faint forgiv'n, And mild as op'ning gleams of promis'd heav'n.

Come, Abelard! for what haft thou to dread? The torch of Venus burns not for the dead. Nature ftands check'd; Religion disapproves ; Ev'n thou art cold-yet Eloïfa loves.

Ak

Ah, hopeless, lafting flames! like thofe 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, Rife in the grove, before the altar rise, Stain all my foul, and wanton in my eyes. I waste the matin lamp in fighs for thee; Thy image fteals between my God and me: Thy voice I feem in ev'ry hymn to hear, With ev'ry bead I drop too foft a tear : When from the cenfer clouds of fragrance roll,And fwelling organs lift the rifing foul, One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, Priests, tapers, temples, fwim before my fight; In feas of flame my plunging foul is drown'd, While altars blaze, and angels tremble round.

While proftrate here in humble grief I lie, Kind, virtuous drops juft gath'ring in my eye, While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, And dawning grace is op'ning on my foul; Come, if thou dar'ft, all charming as thou art! Oppofe thyself to Heav'n; difpute my heart; Come, with one glance of thofe deluding eyes Blot out each bright idea of the skies;

Take back that grace, those forrows, and thofe tears; Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs ; Snatch me, juft mounting, from the bleft abode! Affift the fiends, and tear me from my God!

No,

No, fly me, fly me, far as Pole from Pole;
Rife Alps between us! and whole oceans roll!
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 refign;
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 ferene! o Virtue heav'nly fair!
Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!
Fresh-blooming Hope, gay daughter of the fky!
And Faith, our early immortality!

Enter, each mild, each amicable gueft;
Receive and wrap me in eternal rest!

See in her cell fad Eloïfa spread,

Propt on fome tomb, a neighbour of the dead. In each low wind methinks a fpirit calls, And more than echoes talk along the walls. Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around, From yonder fhrine I heard a hollow found: "Come, fifter, come!" (it faid, or feem'd to fay) "Thy place is here; fad fifter, come away! "Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd, "Love's victim then, tho' now a fainted maid : "But all is calm in this eternal sleep;

"Here Grief forgets to groan, and Love to weep; "Ev'n Superftition lofes ev'ry fear;

"For God, not man, abfolves our frailties here."

I come, I come! prepare your roseate bow'rs, Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs.

Thither, where finners may have rest, I go,
Where flames refin'd in breafts feraphic glow:
Thou, Abelard! the laft fad office pay,

And smooth my paffage to the realms of day;
See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll;
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying foul!
Ah no-in facred vestments may'st thou stand,
The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,
Prefent the cross before my lifted eye,
Teach me at once, and learn of me, to die.
Ah, then thy once-lov'd Eloïfa see!
It will be then no crime to gaze on me.
See from my cheek the tranfient roses fly!
See the laft fparkle languish in my eye!
Till ev'ry motion, pulfe, and breath, be o'er,
And ev❜n my Abelard be lov'd no more.
O Death all-eloquent! you only prove
What duft we doat on, when 'tis man we love.

Then too, when Fate fhall thy fair frame destroy, (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy) In trance extatic may thy pangs be drown'd, Bright clouds defcend, and angels watch thee round! From op'ning fkies may ftreaming glories fhine, And faints 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; If ever Chance two wand'ring lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and filver fprings,

O'er

O'er the pale marble fhall they join their heads,
And drink the falling tears each other sheds;
Then fadly fay, with mutual pity mov'd,
"Oh may we never love as thefe have lov'd!”
From the full choir, when loud Hofannas rife,
And fwell the pomp of dreadful facrifice;
Amid that scene, if fome relenting eye
Glance on the ftone where our cold reliques lie,
Devotion's felf fhall fteal a thought from heav'n,
One human tear fhall drop, and be forgiv'n.
And, fure, if Fate fome future bard fhall join
In fad fimilitude of griefs to mine,
Condemn'd whole years in abfence to deplore
And image charms he muft behold no more;
Such if there be, who loves fo long, fo well;
Let him our fad, our tender story tell!
The well-fung woe's will foothe my pensive ghoft;
He beft can paint 'em who fhall feel 'em moft.

THE TEMPLE OF FAME.

O'ER the wide profpect as I gaz'd around,
Sudden I heard a wild promifcuous found,
Like broken thunders that at diftance roar,
Or billows murm'ring on the hollow shore ;
Then gazing up, a glorious pile beheld,
Whofe tow'ring fummit ambient clouds conceal'd.
High on a rock of Ice the ftructure lay,
Steep its afcent, and flipp'ry was the way: