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But why thould I on others pray'rs depend?
Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!
Ah let thy handmaid, fifter, daughter move,
And, all those tender names in one, thy love!
The darksoin pines that o'er yon' rocks reclin'd
Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind,
The wand'ring 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 rest the visionary maid:
But o'er the twilight groves, and dusky caves,
Long-founding isles, 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 ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green,
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
And breathes a browner horror on the woods.
Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;
Sad proof how well a lover can obey!
Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;
And here ev'n then, shall my cold duft remain;
Here all its frailties, all its flames refign,
And wait, till 'tis no fin to mix with thine.
Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain,
Confess'd within the llave of love and man.
Aflift me heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r ?
Sprung it from piety, or from despair?
Ey'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 solicit new:
Now turn'd to heav'n, I weep my paft offence,
Now think of thee, and curse my innocence.
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,
'Tis sure the hardest science to forget!
How shall 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 diftinguish penitence from love?
Unequal task! a passion to resign,
For hearts so touch'd, fo pierc'd, so loft as mine.
E'er such a soul regains its peaceful state,
How often must it love, how often hate!
How often, hope, despair, resent, regret,
Conceal, disdaindo all things but forget.
But let heav'n seize 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 subdue,
Renounce my love, my life, my self and you.
Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he
Alone can rival, can succeed to thee.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot?
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal fun-fhine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each with resign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
- Obedient flumbers that can wake and weep;
Desires compos’d, affections ever even,
Tears that delight, and fighs that waft to heav'in
Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins Hymenaals fing;
For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes;
To sounds of heav'nly harps the dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day,
Far other dreams ny erring foul employ,
Far other raptures, of unholy joy: .
When at the close of each fad, sorrowing day,
Fancy reftores what vengeance snatch'd away,
Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free,
All my loose foul unbounded springs to thee.
O curft, dear horrors of all conscious night!
How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight"!
Provoking dæmons all restraint remove,
And stir within me ev'ry source 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 say;
I stretch my empty arms; it glides away:
To dream once more I close my willing eyes;
Ye foft illufions, dear deceits, arise!
Alas no more!--methinks we wandring go,
Thro' dreary waftes, and weep each other's woe;
Where round some mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
Sudden you mount! you becken from the skies,
Clouds interpose; waves roar, and winds arise.
I lhriek, start up, the fame sad profpe&t find,
And wake to all the griefs I left behind.
For thee the fates, severely kind, ordain
A cool fufpenfe from pleasure and from pain;
Thy life a long, dead calm of fix'd repose ;
No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows.
Still as the sea, e'er winds were taught to blow,
Or inoving fpirit bade the waters flow;
Soft as the flumbers of a faint forgiv'n,
And mild as opening gleams of promis'd heav'n.
Come, Abelard! for what haft thou to dread;
The torch of Venus burns-not for the dead;
Cut from the root my perish'd joys I fee,
And love's warm tyde for ever stopt in thee.
Nature stands check'd; religion difapproves;
Ev'n thou art cold-yet Eloifa loves.
Ah hopeless, lasting flames ! like thofe that burn
To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn.
What fcenes appear wheree'er I turn my view, The dear ideas where I fly, pursue, Rise in the grove, before the altar rise, Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes! I waste the matin lamp in fighs for thee, Thy image steals between my God and me,