A thousand tender words I hear and speak; On Phæbus' shrine my harp l’ll then bestow, A thousand melting kisses give, and take :

And this inscription shall be plac'd below. Then fercer joys; 1 blush to mention these, “ Here the who sung, to him that did inspire, Yet, while I blush, confess how much they please. “ Sappho to Phæbus consecrates her lyrc; Ba when, with day, the sweet delusion, fly, “ What fits with Sappho, Phæbus, suits with thce; And all things wake to life and joy, but I; “ The gift, the giver, and the god agree As if once more forsaken, I complain,

By why, alas, relentless youth, ah, why And close my eyes to dream of you again : To distant feas must tender Sappho tly? Then frantic rise, and like some fury rove Thy charms than those may far more powerful be, Through lonely plains, and through the filent And Phæbus' self is less a god to me. grove ;

Ah! canst thou doom me to the rocks and sea, As if the silent grove, and lonely plains,

O, far more faithless, and more hard than they? That knew my pleasures, could relieve my pains. Ah! canst thou rather see this tender brealt I view the grotto, once the scene of love, Dash'd on these rocks than to thy bosom press'd; The rocks around, the hanging roofs above, This breast, which once, in vain! you lik’d so well; That charm'd me more, with native moss o'er- Where the loves play'd, and where the musesdwell? grown,

Alas! the muses now no more inspire, Than Phrygian marble, or the Parian stone. Untun'd my lute, and silent is my lyre; I find the shades that veil'd our joys before; My languid numbers have forgot to flow, But, Phaon gone, those lades delight no more. And fancy links beneath a weight of woe. Here the press’d herbs with bending tops betray Ye Lesbian virgins, and ye Lesbian dames, Where oft entwin'd in amorous folds we lay; Themes of my verse, and obje&s of my flames, I kiss that earth which once was press’d by you, No more your groves with myglad fongs shall ring." And all with tears the withering herbs bedew. No more these hands shall touch the trembling For thee the fading trces appear to mourn,

string : And birds defer their songs till thy return : My Phaon's fled, and I those arts resign, Night shades the groves, and all in silence lie, . (Wretch that I am, to call that Phaon mine!) All but the mournful Philomel and I:

Return, fair youth, and bring along With mournful Philomel I join my strain, Joy to my soul, and vigour to my fong : Of Tereus fhe, of Phaon I complain.

Absent from thee, the poet's flame expires; A spring there is, whose silver waters show, But ah! how fiercely burn the lover's fires? Clear as a glass, the shining sands below; Gods! can no prayers, no sighs, no numbers, move A flowery Lotos spreads its arms above,

One savage heart, or teach it how to love? Shades all the banks, and seems itself a grove; The winds my prayers, my sighs, my numbers bcar, E:ernal greens the mosly margin grace,

The flying winds have lost them all in air ! Watch'd by the Sylvan genius of the place. Oh when, alas : fball more auspicious gales Here as I lay, and swell’d with tcars the flood, To these fond eyes restore thy welcome fails? Before my light a watery virgin stood :

If you return-ah, why these long delays? She food and cry'd, “o you that love in vain! Poor Sappho dies while careless Phaon itays.

Fly hence, and seek the fair Leucadian main. 0, launch thy bark, nor fear the watery plain! * There stands a rock, from whose impending steep Venus for thee shall smooth her native main. Apollo's fane surveys the rolling deep;

0, launch thy bark, secure of prosperous gales ! There injur'd lovers, leaping from above, Cupid for thee shall spread the swelling fails. " Their fames extinguish, and forget to love. If you will fly—(yet ah! what cause can be, “ Deucalion once with hopeless fury burn'd, Too cruel youth, that you shouli fly from me?)

In vain he lov'd, relentless Pyrrha scorn'd: If not from Phaon, I must hope for calc, * But wheu from hence he plung'd into the main, Ah, let me feck it from the raging feas ! " Deucalion score'), and Pyrrha lov'd in vain. To racing seas unpity'd I'll remove, " Haste, Sappho, haste, from high Leucadia throw And either cease to live, or cease to love ! * Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps be

low !"
She spoke, and vanish'd with the voice-I rise,

ELOISA TO ABELARD.
And filent tears fall trickling from my eyes.
I go, ye nymphs ! those rocks and seas to prove ;

Argument.
How much I fear, but ah, how much I love !
I go, ye nymphs, where furious love inspires; Abelard and Eloisa flourished in the twelfth cena
Let female fears submit to female fires.

tury; they were two of the niost distinguished To rocks and seas 1 fly from Phaon's hate,

persons of their age in learning and beauty, l uc And hope from seas and rocks a milder fate. for nothing more famous than for their unforYe gentle gales, beneath my body blow,

tunate paflion. After a long course of calamitics, And loftly lay me on the waves below!

they retired cach to a several convent, and conAnd thou, kind love, my firking limbs fusain,

secrated the remainder of their days to religion. Spread thy soft wings, and waft me o'er the main, It was many years after this feparation, that a Nor let a lover's death the guiltless flood pro

letter of Abelard's to a friend, which contained fane!

the bristory of his misfortunes, fell into the handa

of Eloisa. This awakening all her tenderness, Thou know'rt how guiltless hirit I met thy flame,
occasioned those celebrated letters (out of which when love approach'd me under friendship's name;
the following is partly extracted), which give My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,
10 lively a picture of the struggles of grace and Some entanation of th' ail-beauteous mind.
nature, virtue and paflion.

Those (miling eyes, attempering every ray,

Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day. In these deep solitudes and awtul cells,

Guiltless I gaz’d; heaven liftcn'd while you sung;
Where heavenly-penfive contemplation dwells, And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
And ever-masing melancholy reigns;

From lips like those what precept fail'd to move ?
What means this tumult in a vestal's veins ? Too foon they taught me 'twas no fin to love :
Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat ? Back through the paths of pleasing sense işan,
Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat! Nor with'd an angel whom I lov' a man,
Yet, yet I love ! - From Abelard it came,

Dim and remote the joys of faints I see,
And Eloisa yet must kiss the name.

Nor envy them that heaven I lose for thee. Dear, facal name! rest ever udreveal'd,

How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said,
Nor pass these lips in holy silence seala;

Curse on all laws but those which love has made?
Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Love, free as air, ac sight of human cics,
Where, inix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies: Spreads his light wings, and in a moment fies.
0, write it not, my hand--the name appears Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame,
Already written - wash it out my tears!

August her deed, and facred be her fame;
In vain loft Eloisa weeps and prays,

Before true paflion all those views renove;
Her heart still didates, and her hand obeys. Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to love!
Relentless walls! whole darkfonie round con The jealous God, when we profane his tires,
tains

Those reftless patsions in revenge inspires,
Repentant fighs, and voluntary pains:

And bids them make misaken mortals groan,
Ye rugged rocks! which' holy knees have worn; Who seek in love for aught but love alone.
Ye gros and caverns hagg'd with horrid thorn! Should at my feet the world's great master fall,
Shrines: where their vigils pale-eyed virgins keep; Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn them all :
And pitying sainis, whose statues learn to weep! Not Cæsar's empress would i deign to prove;

Though cold like you, un mov'd and silent grown, No, make me mistress to the man I love.
I have not yet forgot myself to stone.

If there be yet another name more free,
All is not heaven's while Abelard has part, More fond than mistress, make nie that to thee!
Still rebel nature holds out half my heart; Oh, happy ftate! when souls each other draw,
Nor prayers, tior fasts, its ftubborn pulse restrain, When love is liberty, and nature law :
Nor icars for ages taught to flow in vain. All then is full, poffefling and possess'd,

Soon as thy letters trembling lunclose, No craving void left aching in the breast :
That well-known name awakens all my woce. Ev'n thought nieets thought, e'er from the lips it
Oh, name for ever sad! for ever dear!

part,
Still breach'd in fighs, Rill uther'd with a tear. And each warm with springs mutual from the heart,
tremble too, where'er my own ) find,

This sure is bliss (if blifs on earth there be), dome dire misfortune follows close behind. And once the lot of Abelard and me. line after line my guning eyes o'erflow,

Alas, how chang'd! what sudden horfors rise !
Led through a sad variety of woe :

A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!
Now warm in love, now withering in my bloom, where, where was Eloise ? her voice, her hand,
Loft in a convent's folitary gloom!

Her ponjard had oppos'd the dire comniand.
There itern religion quench'd th'unwilling flame, Barbarian, fay! that bloody Atroke restrain;
There dy'd the best of paßions, love and fame. The crime was common, common be the pain.

Yet write, oh, write nic all, that I may join I can ne more; by shame, by rage supprefi'a,
Griefs to thy griefs, and echo fighs to thine ! Let tears and burning blushes speak the rett.
Nor foes nor fortune cake this power away ; Canit thou forget that fad, that folemn day,
And is my Abelard less kind than they?

When victims at yon altar's spot we lay ?
Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare, Canft thou forget what tears that moment fell,
Love but demands what else were thed in prayer; When, warm in youth, 1 bade the world farewell?
No happier talk these faded eyes pursue ;

As with cold lips 1 kise'd the facred veil,
To read and wecp is all they now can do. The shrincs all trembled, and the lamps grew pale :

Then share thy pain, allow that fad relief; Heaven scarce believ'd the conquest it furvey'd,
Ah, more than share it, give me all thy grief. And saints with wonder heard the vows I made.
Heav'n first caught letters for fonie wretch's aid, Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew,
Same banilh'd lover, or some captive maid; [spires, Not on the cross my eyes were fix'd, but you :
They live, they speak, they breathe what love in. Not grace, or zeal, luve only was my call;
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires, And if I lofe thy love, I lose my all.
'The virgin's wish without her tears impart, Come with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woc ;
Excuse the blush, and pour cut all the heart, Those fill at least are left thee to bestow.
Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie,
And wast a linha from Indus to the pole.

Still drink delicious poison from thy ese,

Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd; I view my crime, but kindle at the view,
Give all chou canft--and let me dream the rest. Repent old pleasures, and solicit new;
Ah, no! itirua me other joys to prize,

Now turn'd to heaven, I weep my past offence,
With other beauties charm my partial eyes, Now think of thee, and curse my innocence.
Fall in my view set all the bright abode,

Of all affliction tàughe a lover yet,
And make my foul quit Abelard for God. 'Tis sure the hardest science to forget!

Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care ! How Mall I lose the fin, yet keep the sense,
Plants of thy hand, and children of thy prayer. And love th' offender, yet detest ch' offence?
From the false world in early youth they fied, How the dear object from the crime remove,
By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led, Or how diftinguish penitence from love?
You rais’d these hallow'd walls; the desert smild, Unequal talk! a pasion to resign,
Abd paradise was open'd in the wild.

For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so loft as mine! No weeping orphan law his father's stores

E'er such a soul regains its peaceful state, Our fhrines irradiate, of emblaze the floors, How often must it love, how often hate! No filver saints, by dying misers given,

How often hope, despair, refent, regret, Here bribe the rage of ill-requited heaven; Conccal, disdain-do all things bui forget! But such plain roofs as piety could raise,

But let heaven seize it, all at once 'tis fir'rt: And only vocal with the Maker's praise.

Not touch'd, but rapt; not weaken'd, but inspir'd!
In these lone walls (their days eternal bound) Oh, come! oh, teach me nature to subdue,
These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets Renounce my love, my life, myself--and you!
crown'd,

Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he
Where awful arches make a noon-day night, Alone can rival, can fucceed to thee.
And the dim windows shed a folema light; How happy is the blaineless veftal's lot ;
Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray,

The world forgetting, by the world forgot !
And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day. Eternal sun-thine of the spotless mind!
But now no face divine contentment wears, Each prayer accepted, and each with resign'd;
'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears.

Labour and rest that equal periods keep; See how the force of others prayers I try,

· Obedient {umbers that can wake and weep;" (O pious fraud of amorous charity :)

Deures compos'd, affections ever even ; But why should I on others prayers depend? Tears that light, and lighs that wast to licaven. Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend! Grace shines around her with ferencit beams, Ah, let thy bandmaid, lister, daughter, move, And whispering angels prompt her golden dreams. And all those ter.der names in one, thy love! For her th' unfading role of Eden blooms, The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes; Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring : The wandering streams that shine between the For her white virgins hymenæals fing :

To sounds of heavenly harps the dies away, The grors that echo to the tinkling rills,

And melts in visions of eternal day.
The dying gales that pant upon the trees,

Far ocher dreams my erring foul employ,
The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze; Far other raptures of unholy joy :
No more these scenes my meditation aid,

When at the close of each sad, forrowing day, O: lul to rest the visionary maid.

Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away, Bat o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves, Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free, Long-fornding aifles, and intermingled graves, All my loose soul unhounded (prings to thee. Black melancholy fits, and round her throws 0, curst, dear horrors of all-conscious night! A death-like silence, and a dread repose ;

How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight! Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene, Provoking demons all restraint remove, Shades cvery flower, and darkens every green, And stir within me every source of love. Deepens the murmur of the falling foods,

I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charmis, And breathes a browner horror on the woods. And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms. Yet here for ever, ever must I ftay;

I wake :- no more I hear, no more I view,
Sad proof how well a lover can obey!

The phantom flies me, as unkind as you.
Death, only death, can break the lasting chain; I call aloud; it hears not what I say:
And here, en'n then, shall my cold dust remain; i ftretch my empty arms; it glides away.
Here all its frailties, all its fames resign,

To dream once more I close my willing eyes; And wait till 'tis no fin to mix with thine.

Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise : Ah, wretch: believ'd the spouse of God in Alas, no more! inethinks we wandering go vain,

Through dreary wattes, and weep each other's woe, Confess'd within the flave of love and man. Where' round some mouldering tower pale ivy. Afit me, heaven! but whence arose that prayer?

creeps, Sprung it from piety, or from despair ?

And low-brow'd rocks hang noddingo'er the deeps. Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,

Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies; Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.

Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arisc. ! ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought; I shriek, start up, the same fad profpe&t find, 1 mourn the lover, not lament the fault; And wake to all the griefs I left behind.

For thee the fates, severely kind, ordain “ Come, sister, come !" (it said, or seem'd to say) A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain ; “ Thy place is here, sad sister, come away! Thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repote ; “ Once like thyself, 1 trembled, wept, and pray'd, No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows. “ Love's vi&im then, though now a sainted maid : Suill as the seas, e'er winds were taught to blow, “ But all is calm in this eternal sleep; Or moving spirit bade the waters flow;

“ Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep : Soft as the flumbers of a saint forgiven,

“ Ev'o fuperftition loses every fear ; And mild as opening gleams of promis'd heaven. “ For God, not man, absolves our frailties here."

Come, Abelard ! for what halt thou to dread? I come, I come! prepare your roseate bowers, The torch of Venus burns not for the dead. Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flowers. Nature stands check'd; religion disapproves ; Thither, where finners may have reft, I go, Ev’n thou art cold-yet Eloisa loves.

Where flames refin'd in brcats seraphic glow : Ah, hopeless, lasting fames ! like those that burn | Thou, Abelard ! the last fad office pay, To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn. And smooth my passage to the realms of day;

What scenes appear where'er I turn niy view ! Sce my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll, The dear ideas, where I Ay, pursue,

Suck my last breath, and catch my flying foul ! Rise in the grove, before the altar rise,

Ah, no—in sacred vestments mayst thou stand, Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes. The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand, I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee,

Present the cross before my lifted eye, Thy image Alcals between my God and me, Teach me at once, and learn of me to die. Thy voice I seem in every hymn to hear,

Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloisa see! With every bead I drop too soft a tear.

It will be then no crime to gaze on me. When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll, See from my cheek the tranųent roses fly! And swelling organs lift the riling loul,

See the latt sparkle languish in my eye! One thought of thee puts all the pemp to flight, Till every motion, pulle, and breath be o'er ; Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my light: And ev'n my Abelarst be lov'd no more. In seas of flame my plunging foul is drown'd, 0, death all cloquent! you only prove While altars blaze, and angels tremble round. What dust we doat on, when 'tis man we love.

While proftrate here in humble grief I lie, Then too, when fate (hall thy fair frame destroy, Kind, virtuous drops just gathering in my eye, (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy), While, praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, in trance ecstatic may the pangs be drown'd, Aid dawning grace is opeving on my fvul: Bright clouds defcend, and angels watch thee Come, if thou dar'it, all charming as thou art!

round, Oppose thyself to heaven ; dispute my heart; From opening kies may ftreaming glories shine, Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes And saints embrace thee with a love like mine! Blot out each bright idea of the fies; (tears ; May one kind grave unite cach hapless name, Take back that grace, those foriows, and those And graft my love immortal on thy fame! Take back my fruitless penitence and prayers; Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er, Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode ; When this rebellious heart shall beat no more; All it the fiends, and tear me from my God! If ever chance two wandering lovers brings

No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole; To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, Rite Alps between us! and whole oceans roll! O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads, Ah, come pot, write not, think not once of me, And drink the falling tears each other sheds; Nor there onc pang of all I felt for thec.

Then fadly say, with mutual piry mov'd, Thy oaths I quit, thy memory refign;

“ (), may we never love as these have lov'd!" Forget, renouace nic, hate whate'r was mine. From the full choir, when loud hosannahs rise, Fair eyes, and tempting locks (which yet i view :) And swell the pomp of dreadful facrifice, Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adien!

Amid that scene of some relenting cye O, grace ferece! O virtue heavenly fair!

Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie, Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!

Devotion's self shall steal a thought from heaven, lreth-blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky! One human tear shall drop, and be forgiven. And faith, our early immortality!

And fure if fate some future bard fhall join Enter, each mild, cachamicable guest;

In sad fimilitude of griefs to mine, Recene and wrap me in eternal reit!

Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore, Sce in ber cell fad Eloita spread,

And image charms he must behold no more; Prope on some ton b, a neighbour of the dcad. Such if there be, who loves so long, so well; In each low wind methirks a {pirit Calis,

Let him our fad, our tender story tell! And more than echoes talk along the walls. The well-lung woes will soothe my pensive ghost ; ilcre, as I watch'd the dying lamp around, He best can paint them who fall feel them moft. froni yonder frisc I heard a hollow sound.

TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS.

ADVERTISEMENT.

Tar following translations were selected from many others done by the Author in his youth; for

the most part indeed but a sort of exercises, while he was improving himself in the languages, and carried by his early bent to poetry to perform them rather in verse than prose. Mr. Dryden's Fables came out about that time, which occafioned the Translations from Chaucer. They were firit separately printed in Miscellanies, by J. Tonson and B. Lintot, and afterwards collected in the Quarto Edition of 1717. The Imitations of English Authors, which follow, were done as early, some of them at fourteen or fifteen years old.

THE TEMPLE OF FAME.

The Author of this therefore chose the same

sort of exordium. Written in the rear 1711.

In that soft season, when descending showers

Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flowers; ADVERTISEMINT.

When opening buds salute the welcome day, Tez hint of the following piece was taken from And earth relenting feels the genial ray;

Chaucer's House of Fame. The design is in a As balmy Deep had charm'd my cares to rest, magner entirely altered, the descriptions and moft | And love içself was banish'd from my breast, of the particular thoughts my own; yet I could (What time the morn mysterious visions brings, not suffer it to be printed without this acknow. While purer Numbers 1pread their golden wings) ledgment. The reader who would compare this A train of phantoms in wild order rose, with Chaucer, may begin with his third book of And, join'd, this intellectual scene compose. Fame, there being nothing in the two first books I stood, methought, betwixt earth, seas, and that answers to their title : wherever any hint is

íkies, taken from him, the palsage itself is set down The whole creation open to my cyes : in the marginal notes. The poem is introduced in the manner of the Pro

vençal poets, whose works were for the most part vilons, or pieces of imagination, and con

IMITATIONS. lantly descriptive. From these, Petrarch and Ver.11, &c.] These verses are hinted from the folChaucer frequently borrowed the idea of their

lowing of Chaucer, Book ii. poems. See the Trionfi of the former, and the

Though beheld I fields and plains, Dicam, Flower, and the Leaf, &c. of the latter. Now hills, and now mountains,