Plate IV.

Vol. II. facing p.29.

J.Wale invit del:

S:SMüller so:

MWretch believd the Spouse of God in vain, Confefsd within the Slave of love and Man.m

E L O IS A

TO

1

A B E L AR D.

IM

Why feels

N thefe deep solitudes and awful cells,

Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells,
And ever-musing melancholy reigns ;
What means this tumult in a Vestal's veins ?
Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat ?

5
my heart its long-forgotten heat ?
Yet, yet I love !---From Abelard it came,
And Eloïsa yet must kiss the name,
· Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd,
Nor pass these lips in holy filence seald:
Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, ,
Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd Idea lies :
O write it not my hand---the name appears
Already written---wash it out, my tears !

I

20

In vain lost Eloisa

weeps

and
prays,

15 Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. Relentless walls ! whose darksome round con

tains Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains : Ye rugged rocks, which holy knees have worn ; Ye grots and caverns shagg’d with horrid

thorn! Shrines! where their vigils pale ey'd virgins keep, And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep! Tho'cold like you, unmov'd and silent

grown, I have not yet forgot myself to stone. All is not Heav'n's while Abelard has part, 25 Still rebel nature holds out half

my Nor pray’rs nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain, Nor tears for ages taught to flow in vain.

Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, That well-known name awakens all my woes. 30 Oh name for ever fad ! for ever dear! Still breath'd in fighs, still 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 gushing eyes o’erflow,

35 Led thro'a fad variety of woe: Now warm in love, now with’ring in my bloom, Lost in a convent’s folitary gloom!

heart;

Therestern Religion quench'd th’unwilling flame, There dy'd the best of passions, Love and Fame.40

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 pow'r away; And is my Abelard less kind than they? Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare, 45 Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r; 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. 50 Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid; They live, they speak, they breathe what love in

spires, Warm from the foul, and faithful to its fires, The virgin's with without her fears impart, 55 Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart, Speed the foft intercourse from foul to soul, And waft a figh from Indus to the Pole.

Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame, When Love approach'd me under friendship's name;

Those smiling eyes, attemp’ring ev'ry ray,
Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.
Guiltless Igaz'd, heav'n listen'd while you sung; 65
And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
From lips like those what precept fail'd to move ?
Too soon they taught me 'twas no fin to love :
Back thro' the paths of pleasing sense I ran,
Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man. 70
Dim and remote the joys of saints I see;
Nor
envy