Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

No more my locks in ringlets curl'd diffuse Now by the Nine, those powers ador'd by me, The costly sweetness of Arabian dews,

And Love, the god that ever waits on thee, Nor braids of gold the varied tresses bind,

When first 1 heard (from whom I hardly knew), That fiy disorder'd with the wanton wind:

That you were fled, and all my joys with you, For whom should Sappho use such arts as these? Like some sad statue, speechless, pale I stood, He's gone, whom only she desir'd to please! Grief chill'd my breast, and stopp'd my freezing Cupid's light darts my tender bosom move, No sigh to rise, no tear liad power to flow, (blood; Still is there cause for Sappho still to love: Fix'd in a stupid lethargy of woe: So from my birth the Sisters fix'd my doom, But when its way th' impetuous passion found, And gave to Venus all my life to come ;

I rend my tresses, and my breast I wound; Or, while my Muse in melting notes complains, I rave, then weep; I curse, and then complain; My yielding heart keeps measure to my strains. Now swell to rage, now melt to tears again. By charms like thine, which all my soul have won, Not fiercer pangs distract the mournful dame, Who might not ah! who would not be undone ? Whose first-born infant feeds the funeral flame For those Aurora Cephalus might scorn,

My scornful brother with a smile appears, And with fresh blushes paint the conscious morn: Insults my woes, and triumphs in my tears : For those might Cynthia lengthen Phaon's sleep,

His hated image ever haunts my eyes; And bid Endymion nightly tend his sheep : “ And why this grief? thy daughter lives," he cries. Venus for those had rapt thee to the skies,

Stung with my love, and furious with despair, But Mars on thee might look with Venus' eyes. All torn my garments, and my bosom bare, Oscarce a youth, yet scarce a tender boy! My woes, thy crimes, I to the world proclaim; O useful time for lovers to employ !

Such inconsistent things are love and shame! Pride of thy age, and glory of thy race,

'Tis thou art all my care and my delight, Come to these arms, and melt in this embrace! My daily longing, and my dream by night: The vows you never will return, receive ;

O night, more pleasing than the brightest day, And take at least the love you will not give.

When Fancy gives what absence takes away, See, while I write, my words are lost in tears! And, dress'd in all its visionary charms, The less my sense, the more my love appears.

Restores my fair deserter to my arins ! Sure 'twas not much to bid one kind adieu ; Then round your neck in wanton wreaths I twine ; (At least to feign was never hard to you !) (said; Then you, methinks, as fondly circle mine :

Farewell, iny Lesbian love,” you might have A thousand tender words I hear and speak; Or coldly thus, “ Farewell, oh Lesbian maid !” A thousand melting kisses give, and take : No tear did you, no parting kiss receive,

Then fiercer joys; I blush to mention these, Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve.

Yet, while I blush, confess how much they please No lover's gift your Sappho could confer,

But when, with day, the sweet delusions ny,
And wrongs and woes were all you left with her. And all things wake to life and joy, but I ;
No charge I gave you, and no charge could give, As if once more forsaken, I complain,
“ Be mindful of our loves, and live.” And close my eyes to dream of you again :

Per tibi, qui nunquam longe discedat, Amorem,
Cui colar infelix? aut cui placuisse laborem? Perque novem juro, numina nostra, Deas;
Ille inihi cultus unicus auctor abest.

Cum mihi nescio quis, fugiunt tua gaudia, dixite Molle menm levibus cor est violabile telis;

Nec me flere diu, nec potuisse loqui : Et semper causa est, cur ego semper ainem. Et lacrymæ deerant oculis, et lingua palato: five ita nascenti legem dixére sorores,

Astrictum gelido frigore pectus erat. Nec data sunt vitæ tila severa meæ ;

Postquam se dolor invenit ; nec pectora plangie five abeunt studia in mores, artesque magistræ, Nec puduit scissis exululare comis : Ingenium nobis molle Thalia facit.

Non aliter quam si nati pia mater adempti Quid mirum, si me primæ lanuginis ætas

Portet ad extructos corpus inane rogos. Abstulit, atque anni, quos vir amare potest? Gaudet, et e nostro crescit mærore Charaxus Hunc ne pro Cephalo raperes, Aurora, timebam : Frater; et ante oculos itque reditque meos Et faccres; sed te prima rapina tenet.

Utque pudenda mei videatur causa doloris : Vimne si conspiciat, quæ conspicit omnia, Phæbe; Quid dolet hæc? certe filia vivit, ait. Jussus erit somnos continuare Phaon.

Non veniunt in idem pudor atque amor : omne Pune Vems in cælumn curru vexisset eburno;

videbat Sed videt et Marti posse placere suo.

Vulgus ; eram laccro pectus aperta sinu.
O nec adhuc juvenis, nec jam puer! utilis ætas ! Tu mihi cura, Phaon ; te somnia nostra reducunt;
O decus, atque ævi gloria magna tui !

Somnia formoso candidiora die.
Hnc ader, inque sinus, forinose, relabere nostros: Ilic te invenio, quanquain regionibus absis ;
Non ut arcs oro, verum ut amare sinaş.

Sed non longa satis guadia somnus habet.
Scribimus, et lacrymis oculi rorantur obortis : Sape tuos nostra cervice onerare lacertos,

Aspice, quam sit ja hộc multa litura loco. Sæpe tuæ vidcor supposuisse meos.
Si tam certus cras hinc ire, modestius isses, Blandior interdum, verisque simillima verba
Et modo dixisses : “ Lesbi puella, vale."

Eluquor ; et vigilant sensibus ora meis.
Non tecum lacrymas, non oscula summa tulisti ; Oscula cognosco; quæ tu coinmittere lingua,
Denique non timui, quod dolitura fui.

Aptaque consueras accipere, apta dare.
Nil de te mecuin est, nisi tantum injuria : nec tu, Ulteriura pudet narrare; sed omnia fiunt.
· Adinoncat quod te, pignus amantis habes. Et juvat, et sine te non libet esse mihi.
Non mandata dedi; neque enim mandata dedisser At cum se Titan ostendit, et omnia secums
Ulla, nisi ut qolles immemor esse Diering

Tam cito We soubos destituisse quero.

But this,

Then frantic rise, and like some fury rove But when from hence he plung'd into the main, Thro' lonely plains, and thro' the silent grove ; Deucalion scorn'd, and Pyrrha lov'di in vain. As if the silent grove, and lonely plains,

Haste, Sappho, haste, froin high Leucadia throw That knew my pleasures, could relieve my pains. Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below !» I view the grotto, once the scene of love,

She spoke, and vanish'd with the voice I rise, The rocks around, the hanging roofs above, And silent tears fall trickling from my eyes. That charm'd me more, with native moss o’er- I go, ye nyinphs! those rocks and seas to prove ; grown,

How much I fear, but ah, how much I love! Than Phrygian marble, or the Parian stone. I go, ye nymphs, where furious love inspires; I find the shades that veild our joys before ;

Let feniale fears submit to female fires. But, Phaon gone, those shades delight no more. To rocks and seas I fly from Phaon's hate, Here the press'd herbs with bending tops betray And hope from seas and rocks a milder fate. Where oft entwin'd in amorous folds we lay; Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow, I kiss that earth which once was press'd by you, And softly lay me on the waves below! And all with tears the withering herbs bedew. And thou, kind Love, my sinking limbs sustain, For thee the fading trees appear to mourn,

Spread thy soft wings, and waft me o'er the main, And birds defer their songs till thy return : Nor let a lover's death the guiltless flood prophane ! Night shades the groves, and all in silence lie, On Phoebus' shrine my harp l'il then bestow, All but the mournful Philomel and I:

And this inscription shall be plac'd below. With mournful Philomel I join my strain, “ Here she who sung, to him that did inspire, Of Tereus she, of Phaon I complain.

Sappho to Phoebus consecrates her lyre; A spring there is, whose silver waters show, What suits with Sappho, Phæbus, suits with thee; Clear as a glass, the shining sands below; The gift, the giver, and the god agree." A flowery lotos spreads its arms above,

But why, alas, relentless youth, ah, why Shades all its banks, and seems itself a grove; To distant seas must tender Sappho fly? Eternal greens the mossy margin grace,

Thy charms than those may far more powerful be, Watch'd by the sylvan Genius of the place. And Phæbus' self is less a god to me. Here as I lay, and swell'd with tears the food, Ah! canst thou doom me to the rocks and sea, Before my sight a watery virgin stood:

O far more faithless, and more hard than they? She stood and cry'd, “o you that love in vain ! Ah! canst thou rather see this tender breast Fly hence, and seek the fair Leucadian main. Dash'd on these rocks, than to thy bosom press'd ; There stands a rock, from whose impending steep This breast, wbich once, in vain! you lik'd so well; Apollo's fane şurveys the rolling deep;

Where the Loves play'd, and where the Muses There injur'd loters, leaping from above,

Alas! the Muses now no more inspire, (dwell? Their flames extinguish, and forget to love. Untun'd my lute, and silent is my lyre; Deucalion once with hopeless fury burn'd,

My languid numbers have forgot to low; In vain he lov'd, relentless Pyrrha scorn'd : And fancy sinks beneath a weight of woe.

Hinc se Deucalion Pyrrhæ succensus amore Antra nemusque peto, tanquam nemus antraque Misit, et illæso corpore pressit aquas. prosint.

Nec mora : versus amor tetigit lentissima Pyrrh Conscia deliciis illa fuere tuis.

Pectora; Deucalion igne letatus erat. Illuc mentis inops, ut quam furialis Erichtho Hanc legem locus ille tenct, pete protinus altam Impulit, in collo crine jacente feror.

Leucada ; nec saxo desiluisse time." Antra vident oculi scabro pendentia topho,

Ut monuit, cum voce abiit, Egu frigida surgo : Quae mihi Mygdonii marmoris instar erant. Nec gravidæ lacrymas continuere genæ. Invenio sylvam, quæ sæpe cubilia nobis

Ibimus, ô mynıphæ, monstrataque saxa petemus. Præbuit, et multa texit opaca coma.

Sit procul insano victus amore timor. (hito. At non invenio dominum sylvæque, meumque. Quicquid erit, melius quam nunc erit: aura, suVile solum locus est: dos erat ille loci.

Et mea non magnum corpora pondus habent. Agnovi pressas noti mihi cespitis herbas :

Tu quoque, mollis amor, pennas suppone cadenti : De nostro curvum pondere gramen erat.

Ne siin Leucadiæ mortua crimen aquæ. Incubui, tetigique locum qua parte fuisti; Inde chelyn Phobo communia munera ponam :

Grata prius lacrymas combibit herba meas. Et sub ea versus unus et alter erunt. Quinetiam rami positis lugere videntur

“ Grata lyram posui tibi, Phæbe, poëtria Sappho : Frondibus ; et nullæ dulce queruntur aves. Convenit illa mihi, convenit illa tibi.” Sola virum non ulta pie mæstissima mater Cur tamen Actiacas miseram me mittis ad oras, Concinit Ismarium Daulias ales Ityn.

Cum profugum possis ipse referre pedem? Ales Ityn, Sappho desertos cantat amores : Tu mihi Leucadiâ potes esse salubrior undî : Hactenus, ut media cætera nocte silent,

Et forma et meritis tu mihi Phæbus eris. Est nitidus, vitroque magis perlucidus omni, An potes, ô scopulis undaque ferocior illa,

Fons sacer; hunc multi numen habere putant. Si moriar, titulum mortis habere meæ ? Quem supra ramos expandit aquatica lotos, At quanto melius jungi mea pectora tecum, Una nemus; tenero cespite terra viret.

Quam poterant saxis præcipitanda dari! Hic ego cum lassos posuissem fletibus artus, Hæc sunt illa, Phaon, quæ tu laudare solebas; Constitit ante oculos Naïas una meos.

Visaque sunt toties ingeniosa tibi. Constitit, et dixit, “ Quoniam non ignibus æquis Nunc vellem facunda forent : dolor artibus obstat ; Uteris, Ambracias terra petenda tibi.

Ingeniumque meis substitit omne malis. Phæbus ab excelso, quantum patet, aspicit #quor : Non mihi respondent veteres in carmina vires. Actiacum populi Leucadium que vocant.

Plectra dolore tacent: mata dolore lyra este

Ye Lesbian virgins, and ye Lesbian dames,

those celebrated letters (out of which the folThemes of my verse, and objects of my faines, lowing is partly extracted), which give so lively No more your groves with my glad songs shall ring, a picture of the struggles of grace and nature, No more these hands shall touch the trembling virtue and passion. My Phaon's fed, and I those arts resign, (string: (Wretch that I am, to call that Phaori mine!) Return, fair youth, and bring along

ELOISA TO ABELARD.
Joy to my soul, and vigour to my song!
Absent from thee, the poet's Aame expires;

In these deep solitudes and awful cells,
But ah! how fiercely burri the lover's fires?

Where heavenly-pensive Contemplation dwells, Gods! can no prayers, no sighs, no numbers move

And ever inusing Melancholy reigns; One savage heart, or teach it how to love

What means this tumult in a vestal's veins ? The winds my prayers, my sighs, my numbers Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat? The flying winds

have lost them all in air! [bear, Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat? Oh when, alas! shall more auspicious gales

Yet, yet I love! From Abelard it came, To these fond eyes restore thy welcome sails?

And Eloisa yet must kiss the name. If you return-ah why these long delays?

Dear, fatal name!- rest ever unreveal'd, Poor Sappho dies while careless Phaon stays.

Nor pass these lips in holy silence seald: 0, launch thy bark, nor fear the watery plain ;

Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Venus for thee shall smooth her native main.

Where, mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies : O launch thy bark, secure of prosperous gales ;

0, write it not, my hand--the name appears Cupid for thee shall spread the swelling sails.

Already written--wash it out, my tears ! If you will fiy-(yet ah! what cause can be,

In vain lost Eloïsa weeps and prays, Too cruel youth, that you should fly from me!)

Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. If not from Phaon I must hope for ease,

Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains Ah let me seek it from the raging seas :

Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains: 'To raging seas unpity'd I'll remove,

Ye rugged rocks! wbich holy knces have worn; And either cease to live, or cease to love!

Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn!

Shrines! where their vigils pale-eyed virgins keep: Lesbides aquoteæ, mupturaque nuptaque proles ;

And pitying saints, 'whose statues learn to weep! Lesbides, Æolia nomina dicta lyra ;

Though cold like you, unmov'd and silent growts, Lesbides, infamem quæ me fecistis amatæ;

I have not yet forgot myself to stone. Desinite at citharas turba venire meas.

All is not Heaven's while Abelard has part, Abstulit omne Phaon, quod vobis ante placebat.

Still rebel Nature holds out half my heart; (Me miseram! dixi quam modo pene, meus !)

Nor prayers nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain, Efficite ut redeat: vates quoque vestra redibit.

Nor tears, for ages taught to flow in vain. Ingenio vires ille dat, ille rapit.

Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, Ecquid ago precibus ? pectusné agreste movetur ?

That well-known name awakens all my woes.

Oh, name for ever sad! for ever dear!
An riget: et zephyri verba caduca ferunt >
Qui mea verba ferunt, veliem tua vela referrent.

Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear, Hoc te, si saperes, lente, decebat opus.

I tremble too, where'er iny own I find, Sive redis, puppique tuæ votiva parantur

Some dire misfortune follows close behind. Mupera ; quid laceras pectora nostra mora ?

Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow, Solve ratem: Venus orta mari, mare præstat eunti.

Led through a sad variety of woe: Aura dabit cursum ; tu modo solve ratem.

Now warm in love, now withering in my bloom, Ipse gubernabit residens in poppe Cupido:

Lost in a convent's solitary glooin! Ipse dabit tenera vela legetque manu,

There stern Religion quench'd th' unwilling flame, Sive juvat longe fugisse Pelasgida Sappho;

There dy'd the best of passions, love and fame. (Non tamen invenies, cur ego digna fuga.)

Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join (0 saltem miseræ, crudelis, epistola dicat :

Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine.
Ut mihi Leucadiæ fata petantur aquæ.]

Nor foes nor Fortune take this power away;
And is my Abelard less kind than they?
lars still are mine, and those I need not spare,
Love but demands what else were sbed in prayer ;

No happier task these faded eyes pursue ;
ELOISA TO ABELARD,

To read and weep is all they now can do.

Then sliare thy pain, allow that sad relief;

Ah, more than share it, give me all thy gri f.
ARGUMENT.

Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid, LILLARD and Eloïsa flourished in the twelfth cen Some banish'd lover or some captive maid;

tury; they were two of the most distinguished per. They live, they speak, they breathe what love insons of their age in learning and beauty, but for Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires, (spires, nothing more famous than for their unfortunate The virgin's wish without her fears impart, passion. After a long course of calamities, they Fxcuse the blush, and pour out all the heart, retired each to a several convent, and conse- Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, crated the remainder of their days to religion. And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole. It was many years after this separation, that a Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame, letter of Abelard's to a friend, which contained When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name; the history of his misfortune, fell into the hands My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind, of Eloïsa. This awakening all ber tenderness, Some emanation of th' All-beauteous Mind. VOL XI

N

Those smiling eyes, attempering every ray, You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'do
Shone sweetly iambent with celestial day.

And Paradise was opend in the wild.
Guiltless | gaz'd; Heavea listen'd while you sung; No weeping orphan saw his father's stores
And truths divine came mended from that tongue. Our shrines irradiate, or enblaze the floors;
From lips like those what precept fail'd to move? No silver saints, by dying misers given,
"Too soon they taught me 'twas no sia to love: Here bribe the rage of ill-requited Heaven ;
Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran, But such plain roofs as Piety could raise,
Nor wish'd an angel whom I lov'd a man.

And only vocal with the Maker's praise.
Dim and remote the joys of saints I see,

In these lone walls, (their days eternal bound) Nor envy them that Dearen I lose for thee. These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'de

How oft, when prcss' to marriage, have I said, Where awful arches make a noon-day night, Curse on all laws but those which Love has made ! And the dimn windows shed a soleinn light; Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,

Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies. And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day. Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame, But now no face divine contentment wears, August her deed, and sacred he her fame;

'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears. Before true pa: sin all those views remove;

See how the force of others' prayers I try, Fume, wealth, and honour! what are you to love? (O pious fraud of amorous charity!) The jealous gou, when we prophane bis fires, But why should I on others' prayers depend? Those restless passions in revenge inspires, Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend ! And bids them make mistaken mortals groan, Ah, let thy handmaid, sister, daughter, move, Who seek in love for aught but love alone.

And all those tender names in one, thy love! Should at my feet the world's great master fall, The darksome pines that o'er you rocks reclin'd Ilimself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn them all : Wave high, and inurmur to the hollow wind, Not Cæsar's empress would I deign to prove; The wandering streams that shine between the hills, No, make me mistress to the man I love.

The grots that echo to the tinkling rilis, If there be yet another name more free,

The dying gales that pant upou the trecs, More fond than mistress, make me that to thee! The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze; Oh, happy state! when wouls each other draw, No more these scenes my meditation aid, When love is lib’rty, and Nature law :

Or lull to rest the visionary maid : All then is full, possessing and possessid,

But o'er the twilight groves and dusky cares,
No craving void left aching in the breast: Tpart, | Long-sunding aisles, and intermingled graves,
Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws
And each warm wish springs inutual from the heart. A deatb-like silence, and a dread repose;
This sure is bliss (if bliss on Earth there be) Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
And once the lot of Abelard and me.

Shades every flower and darkens every green,
Alas, how chang'd! what suden horrours rise! | Deepens the murinur of the falling foods,
A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!

And breathes a browner hurrour on the woods.
Where, where was Eloïse? her voice, her hand, Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;
Her ponyard had oppos'd the dire command. Sad proof how well a Jover, can obey !
Barbarian, stay! that bloodly stroke restrain; Death, only Death, can break the lasting chain;
The crime was common, common be the pain. And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain;
I can no more; by shame, by rage suppressid, Here all its frailties, all its fames resign,
Let tears and burning blushes speak the rest. And wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine.

Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day, Ah, wretch! bliev'd the spouse of God in vain, When victims at yon altar's foot we lay?

Confess'd within the slave of love and man.
Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell, Assist ine, Heaven! but whence arose that prayer
When, warm in youth, I basie the world farewell? Sprung it from piety, or froin despair?
As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil,

Er'n here where frozen Chastity retires,
The shrines el trembled and the lamps grew pale : Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
Heaven searre believ'd the congnest it survey'd, I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
And saints with woncier heard the vows I made. I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;
Yet then, to those dreari altars as I drew,

Tview my crime, but kindle at the view,
Not on the cross my eyes were fix'd, but you : Repent old pleasures, and solicit new;
Not grace, or zeal, love only was my cal! ;

Now turnid to Heaver, I weep my past offence, And if I lose the love, I lose my all.

Vow think of thee, and curse my innocence. Come! with thy looks, thy wortis, relieve my woe;

Of all atlliction taught a lover yet, Those still at least are left thee to bestow.

"Jis sure the hardest science to forget! Still on that breast enamour'd let rue lie,

How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense,
Stilt drink delicious poison from thy cye,

And love th' offender, vet letest th' offence!
Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd; How the dear object from the crime remove,
Give a!I thou canst--and let me dream the rest. Or how distinguish penitence froin love?
Ah, no! instruet ine other ioys to prize,

Unequal task! a passion to resign,
With other beauties charın my partial eyes, For Hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine !
Full in my view set all the bright abode,

Fre such a soul regains its peaceful state, And make my soul quit Abelard for God.

How often inust it love, how often hate! Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care, flow often hope, despair, resent, regret, Plants of ihy hand, and children of thv pra ver. Conceal, disdain,- do all things but forget! From the fals' workel in early youth they fled, But let Heaven seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd : By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts lado Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!

Oh, come, oh, teach mé Nature to subdue, One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, Renounce my love, my life, myself—and you. Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight: Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he

In seas of tlame my plunging soul is drown'd, Alone can rival, can sucreed to thee.

While altars blaze, and angels tremble round. How happy is the blameless vestal's lot;

While prostrate here in bumble grief Ilie, . The world forgetting, by the world forgot!

Kind, virtuous drops just gathering in my eye, Eternal sun-sbine of the spotless mind!

While, praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, Each prayer accepted, and each wish resign'd; And dawning grace is opening on my soul: Labour and rest that equal periods keep;

Come, if thou darst, all charming as thou art ! “ Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;" Oppose thyself to Heaven; dispute my heart; Desires compos'd, affectious ever even;

Coine, with one glance of those deluding eyes Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heaven. Blot out each bright idea of the skies; (tears Grace shines around her with serenest beams, Take back that grace, thosc sorrows, and those And whispering angels prompt her golden dreams. Take back my fruitless penitence and pravers; For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,

Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes; Assist the tiends, and tear me from my Goul! For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring;

No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole; For her white virgins hymenaals sing;

Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll! To sounds of heavenly harps she dies away,

Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me, And melts in visions of eternal day.

Nor shar one pang of all I felt for thee. Far other dreams my crring soul employ, Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign! Far other raptures of unholy joy:

Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine. When, at the close of each sad, sorrowing day, Fair eyes, and tempting looks, (which yet I view !) Fancy restore:s what Vengeance snatch'l away, Long lov'd), ador'd ideas, all adieu! Then Conscience sleeps, and leaving Nature free, ( Grace serene! O Virtuc heavenly fair ! All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee. Divine oblivion of low-thoughted Care! O rurst, dear horrours of all-conscious night! Fresh-blooining Hope, gay daughter of the sky! How gloring guilt exalts the keen delight!

And Faith, our early immortality! Provoking demons all restraint remove,

Enter, each mild, each amicable guest; And stir within me every source of lore.

Receive and wrap me in eternal rest! I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms, See in her cell sad Eloïsa spread, And round thy phantoin glue my clasping arms. Propt on some tomh, a neighbour of the dead. I wake :--no more I hear, no more I view,

In cach low wind methinks a spirit calls, The' phantom flies me, as unkind as you.

And more than Echoes talk along the walls. I call aloud; it hears not what I say :

Here, as I watch'd the dying lamp around, I stretch my empty arms; it glides away.

From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound. To dream once more I close my willing cyes;

Come, sister, come!” (it said, or seem'd to say) Ye soft illusions, dear decvits, arise!

Thy place is here, sad sister, come away! Alas, no more! methinks we wandering go Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd, Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe, Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid : Where round some mouldering tower paleivy creeps,

But all is calm in this eternal sleep; And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'cr the deeps. Here Grief forgets to groan, and Love to weep: Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies; Ev'n Superstition loses every fear; Cituds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise. For God, not man, absolves our frailties here." 1 shriek, start up, the saine sad prospect find, I come, I come! prepare your roseate howers, And wake to all the griefs I left behind.

Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flowers. For thee the Fates, severely kind, orrlain Thither, wbere sinners may have rest, I go, A cnol suspense from pleasure and froni pain; Where names refin'd in breasts seraphic glow; Thy life a long dai calın of lix'd ripo e;

Thou, Abelard ! the last sad office pay, No pulse that riuts, and no blood that glows. And smooth my passage to the realras of day ; Sulli as the sea, pre winds were taught to blow,

See

my lips treinble, and my eye-balls roll, Or moving spirit bade the waters tlow;

Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul! Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiven,

Ah, noin sacred vestments mayst thou stand, Aud mild as opening gleams of promis'd Heaven. The hallow'd taper treinbling in thy hand,

Conde, Abelard ! for what hast thou to dread? Present the cross before my lifted eye,
The torch of Venus burns not for the dead.

Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves ; Ah, then thy once lov'd Eloïsa see!
Er'n thou art cold-ovet Eloisa loves.

It will be then no crime to gaze on me.
Ah, hopeless, lasting flames ! like those that burn See from my cheek the transient roses fly!
To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn. Sop the last sparkle languish in my eye!

What scenes appear where'er I turn my view ! Till every motion, pulse, and breatli be o'er; The dear ideas, where I flv, pursue,

And ev'n iny Abelard be lov'd no more. Rize in the grove, before the altar rise,

() Death all eloqueut ! you only prove Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes.

What dust we doat on, when 'tis man vo love. I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thre,

Then too, when Fate shall thy frir framne dem Thy image steals between my God and me,

(That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy) (strvy, Thy coi el seem in every hymn to hear,

In trance extatic may thy pangs be crown'l. With every bead I drop too soft a tear.

Bright clouds descend, and angels watch the round, When froin the conser clouds of fragrance roll, Froin opening skies may streaming glories shina, And swelling vrgaus lift the rising soul,

And saints embrace thee with a love like mine |-

« VorigeDoorgaan »