No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows,
Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow,
Or moving spirit bade the waters flow;
Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiven,
And mild as opening dreams of promised
heaven.

255

Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to dread? The torch of Venus burns not for the dead. Nature stands checked; religion disapproves : Ev'n thou art cold—yet Eloisa loves. Ah hopeless, lasting flames! like those that

burn

260

265

To light the dead, and warm the unfruitful urn.
What scenes appear where'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 sighs for thee,
Thy image steals between my God and me,
Thy voice I seem in every hymn to hear,
With every bead I drop too soft a tear.
When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll,
And swelling organs lift the rising soul,
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,
Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight:
In seas of flame my plunging soul is drowned, 275
While altars blaze, and angels tremble round.

270

While prostrate here in humble grief I lie, Kind, virtuous drops just gathering in my eye, While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, And dawning grace is opening on my soul: 280 Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art! Oppose thyself to Heaven; dispute my heart; Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes Blot out each bright idea of the skies; Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those tears;

285

Take back my fruitless penitence and prayers; Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode; Assist the fiends and tear me from my God!

No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole; Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll! 290 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 resign; Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine. Fair eyes, and tempting looks, (which yet I view!)

Long loved, adored ideas, all adieu !

O grace serene! oh virtue heavenly fair !
Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!

295

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 rest!

See in her cell sad Eloisa spread,

300

Propped on some tomb, a neighbour of the

dead.

305

310

In each low wind methinks a spirit calls,
And more than echoes talk along the walls.
Here, as I watched the dying lamps around,
From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound.
"Come, sister, come! (it said, or seemed to say,)
Thy place is here, sad sister, come away!
Once, like thyself, I trembled, wept, and prayed,
Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid:
But all is calm in this eternal sleep;
Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep,
Ev'n superstition loses every fear:
315
For God, not man, absolves our frailties here."
I come, I come! prepare your roseate bowers,
Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flowers.
Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go,
Where flames refined in breasts seraphic glow:

321

Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay,
And smooth my passage to the realms of day;
See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roll,
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul!
Ah no-in sacred vestments may'st thou stand,
The hallowed taper trembling in thy hand, 326
Present the Cross before my lifted eye,
Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
Ah then, thy once-loved Eloisa see!
It will be then no crime to gaze on me.
See from my cheek the transient roses fly!
See the last sparkle languish in my eye!
'Till every motion, pulse, and breath be o'er,
And ev'n my Abelard be loved no more.
O Death all-eloquent! you only prove 335
What dust we dote on, when 'tis man we love.
Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame
destroy,

330

(That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy,) In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drowned, Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee

round,

340

From opening skies may streaming glories shine, And saints embrace thee with a love like mine.

May one kind grave unite each hapless name,' And graft my love immortal on thy fame! Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er, 345 When this rebellious heart shall beat no more; If ever chance two wandering lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads,

1 Abelard and Eloisa were interred in the same grave, or in monuments adjoining, in the monastery of the Paraclete. He died in the year 1142, she in 1163.-P. Their remains were removed more than once, but in 1817 they were finally deposited in the cemetery of Père la Chaise, at Paris.

And drink the falling tears each other sheds;
Then sadly say, with mutual pity moved, 351
"Oh may we never love as these have loved!
From the full choir when loud Hosannas rise,
And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice,'
Amid that scene, if some relenting eye
Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie,
Devotion's self.shall steal a thought from

heaven,

355

One human tear shall drop, and be forgiven. . And sure, if fate some future bard shall join, In sad similitude of griefs to mine, 360 Condemned whole years in absence to deplore, And image charms he must behold no more; Such if there be, who loves so long, so well, Let him our sad, our tender story tell; The well-sung woes will sooth my pensive

ghost;

365

He best can paint them who shall feel them

most.

1 The ritual term.-Steevens.