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 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 thofe 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 streams 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 repose;
Her gloomy presence 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 must 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 dust 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.
Affist me, Heaven! but whence arose that prayer?
Sprung it from piety, or from despair?
Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,
Love finds an altar for forbidden fires,
I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;
I view my crime, but kindle at the view,
Repent old pleasures, and folicit new;
Now turn'd to heaven, I weep my past offence,
Now think of thee, and curfe my innocence.
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,
'Tis fure the hardest science to forget!
How fhall I lose the fin, yet keep the sense,
And love th' offender, yet deteft th' offence?
How the dear object from the crime remove,
Or how distinguish penitence from love?
Unequal talk! a paffion to resign,
For hearts fo touch'd, fo pierc'd, fo loft as mine!
Ere fuch a foul regains its peaceful state,
How often muft it love, how often hate!
How often hope, despair, refent, regret,
Conceal, disdain,-do all things but forget?
But let heaven feize it, all at once 'tis fir'd:
Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!
Oh come! oh teach me nature to fubdue,
Renounce my love, my life, myfelf-and you.
Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he
Alone can rival, can fucceed to thee.
How happy is the blameless Veftal's lot;
The world forgetting, by the world forgot!
Eternal fun-fhine of the fpotlefs mind!
Each prayer accepted, and each with refign'd;
Labour and reft, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient flumbers that can wake and weep ;"
Defires compos'd, affections ever even;
Tears that delight, and fighs that waft to heaven.
Grace fhines around her with ferenest beams,
And whispering Angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of Seraphs fhed divine perfumes,
For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins Hymenæals fing,
To founds of heavenly harps fhe dies away,
And melts in vifions of eternal day.
Far other dreams my erring foul employ,
Far other raptures, of unholy joy:
When, at the close of each fad, forrowing day,
Fancy restores what vengeance fnatch'd away,
Then confcience fleeps, and leaving nature free,
All
my loose foul unbounded springs to thee.
O curft, dear horrors of all-confcious night!
How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
Provoking Demons all restraint remove,
And stir within me every fource 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 wandering go
Through dreary waftes, and weep each other's woe.
Where round fome mouldering tower 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 profpect 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 bade the waters flow,
Soft as the flumbers of a faint forgiven,
And mild as opening gleams of promis'd heaven.
Come, Abelard! for what haft thou to dread ?
The torch of Venus burns not for the dead.
Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves ;
Ev'n thou art cold-yet Eloifa loves.
Ah, hopeless, lafting flames! like those 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, purfue,
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 steals between my God and me,
Thy voice I feem in every hymn to hear,
With every bead I drop too foft a tear,
When from the cenfer clouds of fragrance roll,
And fwelling organs lift the rising foul,
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,
Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight:
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 gathering in my eye,
While, praying, trembling, in the duft I roll,
And dawning grace is opening on my foul:
Come, if thou dar'ft, all charming as thou art!
Oppofe thyself to Heaven; dispute 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 those tears; Take back my fruitless penitence and prayers;
Snatch me, juft mounting, from the bleft abode ;
Affift the fiends, and tear me from my God!
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 fhare one pang of all I felt for thee.
Thy oaths I quit, thy memory refign;
Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.
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