صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

Nature ftands check'd; Religion disapproves ;
Ev'n thou art cold-yet Eloïfa loves.

Ah hopeless, lafting flames! like thofe that burn
To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn.
What fcenes appear where'er I turn my view ?
The dear ideas, where I fly, purfue,

Rife in the grove, before the altar rife,
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 ev'ry hymn to hear,
With ev'ry bead I drop too foft a tear.
When from the cenfer clouds of fragrance roll,
And fwelling organs lift the rifing foul,
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,
Priefs, tapers, temples, fwim before my fight:
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 gath'ring in my eye,
While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll,
And dawning grace is op'ning on my foul:
Come, if thou dar'ft, all charming as thou art!
Oppofe thyself to Heav'n; difpute my heart;
Come, with one glance of thofe deluding eyes
Blot out each bright idea of the fkies;

Take back that grace, thofe forrows, and those tears;
Take back my fruitlefs penitence and pray'rs ;
Snatch me, juft mounting, from the bleft abode;
Affift the fiends, and tear me from my God!

No

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 share one pang of all I felt for thee.
Thy oaths I quit, thy memory refign;
Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.
Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!)
Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu !

O Grace ferene! oh Virtue heav'nly fair!
Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!

Fresh blooming Hope, gay daughter of the sky!
And Faith, our early immortality!

Enter each mild, each amicable guest;
Receive and wrap me in eternal reft!
See in her cell fad Eloïfa fpread,

Propt on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead.
In each low wind methinks a Spirit calls,
And more than Echoes talk along the walls.
Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around,
From yonder fhrine I heard a hollow found..
"Come, fifter, come!" (it faid, or feem'd to fay)
"Thy place is here, fad fifter, come away!
Once, like thyfelf, I trembled, wept, and pray'd,
Love's victim then, tho' now a fainted maid:
But all is calm in this eternal sleep;

Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep,
Ev'n fuperftition lofes ev'ry fear:

For God, not man, abfolves our frailties here."

I come, I come! prepare your rofeate bow'rs, Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs.

[blocks in formation]

Thither, where finners may have reft, I go,
Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow:
Thou, Abelard! the laft fad office pay,

And smooth my paffage to the realms of day;
See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,
Suck my laft breath, and catch my flying foul!
Ah no-in facred veftments may'ft thou ftand,
The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,
Prefent the Cross before my lifted eye,

Teach me, at once, and learn of me, to die.
Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloïfa fee;

It will be, then, no crime to gaze on me.
See from my check the tranfient roses fly!
See the last sparkle languifh in my eye!
'Till ev'ry motion, pulfe, and breath be o'er ;
And e'en my Abelard be lov'd no more.
O Death all-eloquent! you only prove

What duft we doat on, when 'tis man we love.

Then, too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy,
(That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy)
In trance extatic may thy pangs be drown'd,
Bright clouds defcend, and Angels watch thee round,
From op'ning skies may ftreaming glories fhine,
And Saints embrace thee with a love like mine.
May one kind unite each hapless name,
grave
And graft my love immortal on thy fame!

Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er,
When this rebellious heart fhall beat no more;
If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings
"To Paraclete's white walls and filver springs,

O'er

O'er the pale marble fhall they join their heads,
And drink the falling tears each other sheds;
Then fadly fay, with mutual pity mov'd,
"O may we never love as these have lov'd!"
From the full choir, when loud Hofannas rise,
And swell the pomp of dreadful facrifice,
Amid that scene if fome relenting eye

Glance on the ftone where our cold relics lie,
Devotion's felf shall steal a thought from Heav'n,
One human tear fhall drop, and be forgiv'n.
And fure, if fate fome future bard shall join
In fad fimilitude of griefs to mine,
Condemn'd whole years in abfence to deplore,
And image charms he must behold no more;
Such if there be, who loves fo long, fo well;:
Let him our fad, our tender ftory tell!
'The well-fung woes will footh my penfive ghoft;
He best can paint 'em who fhall feel 'em mot.

[blocks in formation]

AN EPISTL E,

FROM

Mr. PHILIPS to the Earl of DORSET.

The opening of this poem is incomparably fine. The latter part is tedious and trifling.

F

Copenhagen, March 9, 1709.

ROM frozen climes, and endless tracts of fnow,

From ftreams that northern winds forbid to flow; What prefent fhall the Mufe to Dorfet bring, Or how, fo near the Pole, attempt to fing? The hoary winter here conceals from fight - All pleafing objects that to verfe invite. The hills and dales, and the delightful woods, The flow'ry plains, and filver ftreaming floods, By fnow difguis'd, in bright confufion lie, And, with one dazzling waste, fatigue the eye. No gentle breathing breeze prepares the spring, No birds within the defart region fing. The fhips, unmov'd, the boift'rous winds defy, While rattling chariots o'er the ocean fly. The vaft Leviathan wants room to play, And fpout his waters in the face of day, The starving wolves along the main fea prowl, And to the moon in icy vallies howl.

For

« السابقةمتابعة »