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Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n liften'd while you fung;
And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
From lips like thofe what precept fail'd to move?
Too foon they taught me 'twas no fin to love:
Back thro' the paths of pleafing fenfe I ran,
Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a man.
Dim and remote the joys of faints I fee;
Nor envy them that heav'n I lofe for thee.
Alas how chang'd! what fudden horrors rife?
A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!
Where, where was Eloife? her voice, her hand,
Her poniard, had oppos'd the dire command,
* He was her Preceptor in Philofophy and Divinity.
How oft', when preft to marriage, have I faid,
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 profane his fires,
Thofe reftlef's paffions in revenge infpires,
And bids them make miftaken mortals groan,
Who feek in love for ought but love alone.
Should at my feet the world's great mafter fall,
Himself, his throne, his world, I'd fcorn em all:
Not Cæfar's empress wou'd I deign to prove;
No, make me miftrefs to the man I love;
If there be yet another name, more free,
More fond than Miftrefs, make me that to thee!
Oh 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 aking in the breast :
Ev'n thought meets thought, e'er from the lips it part, 95-
And each warm wifh fprings mutual from the heart.
This fure is blifs (if blifs on earth there be)
And once the lot of Abelard and me.
Barbarian ftay that bloody ftroke restrain:
The crime was common, common be the pain.
I can no more; by fhame, by rage fupprefs'd,
Let tears, and burning blufhes fpeak the reft.
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 fhrines all trembled, and the lamps grew pale:
Heav'n fcarce believ'd the conqueft it furvey'd,
And faints 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 zeal, love only was my call,
And if I lofe thy love, I lofe my all.
Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe;
Those ftill at leaft are left thee to beftow.
Still on that breaft 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! inftru&t 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 deferves thy care,
Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r.
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 fhrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;
No filver faints, by dying mifers given,
"Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n s
But fuch plain roofs as piety could raife,
And only vocal with the maker's praife.
He founded the Monaftery.
Ah, Wretch believed the Spouse of God in vain
Confejod within the Slave of Love and Man
El to Ab
In thefe lone walls (their day's 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 fadnefs, or continual tears.
See how the force of others pray'rs I try,
(Oh pious fraud of am'rous charity!)
But why should I on others pray'rs depend?
Come thou, my father, brother, hufband, friend!
Ah let thy handmaid, fifter, daughter move,
And all those tender names in one, thy love!
The darkfome pines that o'er yon' rocks reclin'd,
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 vifionary maid.
But o'er the twilight groves, and dufky caves,
Long-founding ifles, 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 ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry 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 lafting chain;
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.
Ah wretch! believ'd the fpoufe of God in vain,
Confefs'd within the flave of love and man.