Pursued again a too successful theme,
And dry'd my eyes, with yours again to stream:
When practis'd tears your venial fault confest,
And half dissembled, half excus'd the rest,
To kindred griefs taught pity by my own,
Sighs I return'd, and answer'd groan for groan;
Your self-reproaches, stifling mine, approv'd,
And much I credited, for much I lov'd. 19h
Not long the soul this doubtful dream prolongs;
Pardoning indeed, but not forgetting wrongs,
It scorns the traitor, and with conscious pride
Scorns a base self-deserting to his side:
Great by misfortune, greater by despair,
Its heaven once lost, disdains an humbler care:
Perhaps too tender, or too fierce, my soul
Disclaiming half the heart, demands the whole.
I blame thee not, that, fickle as thy race, New loves invite thee, and the old efface That cold, insensible thy soul appears To Virtue's smiles, to Virtue's very tears:— But oh, a heart whose tenderness you knew, That held, frail tenure! life itself from you; In fond presumption that securely play'd, Securely slumber'd in your friendly shade, Whose every weakness, every sigh to share, The powers that haunt the perjur'd, heard you swear, Was this a heart you wantonly resign'd
Victim to scorn, to ruin, and mankind? D
Was this O traitor, that betray'st no more,
What means thy pity? what can vows restore ?
Can vows recall th' autumnal year to bloom?
Or quicken ashes slumbering in the tomb ?
Can vows to smiles relax the brow of Care,
Or heal thy scars of anguish, fierce Despair?
Bid Virtue's sullied flames again refine?
Or Honor visit a deserted shrine?
Ah nonor prayers, nor all th' immortal powers,
Back to their once-trod circles win the hours!
Cruel! no more thy flattering form betrays,
The feeble vision melts in Reason's rays,—
Yet take my pardon in my last farewell-
Daggers, like those you planted, never feel!
Fated, like me, to curse, yet court your fate;
To blend, in dreadful union, Love and Hate;
Chiding the present moment's ling'ring haste,
To dread the future, and deplore the past;
Like me condemn th' effect, the cause approve,
Renounce the lover, yet retain the love!
Yes, Love! ev'n now, in this ill-fated hour,
An exile from thy joys, I feel thy power.
Yon orient sun, once lovely to my sight,
Bathing in vernal dews his youthful light,
Congenial to my griefs, now sullen glows:
The streams that murmur, yet not court repose;
The breezes sickening with my mind's disease,
And valleys laughing to all eyes but these,
Proclaim-thy absence, Love! whose beam alone
Lighted my morn with glories not its own!
Ah, noblest passion life and youth impart,
Soon as thy flame shot rapture to my heart,
A new creation brighten'd on my view;
Nurs'd in thy smiles the social passions grew :
New strung, th' harmonious nerves, the thrilling veins,
Beat, in sweet unison, to others pains.
The blood, to partial currents once confin'd,
Now swell'd an ocean, and embrac'd mankind.
The soul, once centering in itself the blaze,
Now wide diffus'd Benevolence's rays;
250
Kindling on earth, pursu’d th' aethrial road,
In hallow'd flames ascending to its God.
Ah, Love!-in vain a blasting hand destroys Thy swelling blossoms of expected joys; Converts to poison what for food was given, Thy manna dropping from its native heaven; Victorious still thou triumph'st! still confest The purest transport that can warm the breastYes, traitor, yes :-my heart, to Nature true, Adores the passion, and detests but you.
IN
my dark cell, low prostrate on the ground,
Mourning my crimes, thy letter entrance found;
Too soon my soul the well-known name confest;
My beating heart sprung fiercely in my breast:
Thro' my whole frame a guilty transport glow'd,
And streaming torrents from my eyes fast flow'd.
O Eloisa! art thou still the same?
Dost thou still nourish this destructive flame?
Have not the gentle rules of peace and heaven
From thy soft soul this fatal passion driven?
Alas! I thought thee disengag'd and free;
And can'st thou still, still sigh and weep for me?
What powerful deity, what hallow'd shrine,
Can save me from a love and faith like thine ?
Where shall I fly, when not this awful cave,
Whose rugged feet the surging billows lave;
When not these gloomy cloister's solemn walls,
O'er whose rough sides the languid ivy crawls;
When my dread vows in vain their force oppose,
Oppos'd to love-alas! how vain are vows! 2
In fruitless penitence I wear away
Each tedious night; each sad revolving day
I fast, I pray; and, with deceitful art,
Veil thy dear image from my tortur'd heart:
My tortur❜d heart conflicting passions move,
I hope, despair, repent—yet still I love.
A thousand jarring thoughts my bosom tear,
For thou, not God, O Eloise art there.
To the false world's deluding pleasures dead,
Nor longer by its wandering fires misled, 30
In learn'd disputes harsh precepts I infuse,
And give that counsel I want power to use.
The rigid maxims of the grave and wise
Have quench'd each milder sparkle of my eyes;
Each lovely feature of this well-known face,
By grief revers'd, assumes a sterner grace.
O Eloisa! should the fates once more,
Indulgent to my view, thy charms restore !
How wouldst thou from my arms with horror start,
To miss the form familiar to thy heart!
Nought could thy quick, thy piercing judgment see,
To speak thy Abelard-but love of thee.
Lean abstinence, pale grief, and haggard care,
The dire attendants of forlorn despair,
Have Abelard the young, the gay, remov'd,
And in the hermit sunk the man you lov'd.
Wrapt in the gloom these holy mansions shed,
The thorny paths of penitence I tread;
|