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A thousand tender words I hear and fpeak; A thousand melting kiffes give, and take: Then fiercer joys; I blush to mention these, Yet, while I blush, confefs how much they please. But when, with day, the sweet delusions fly, And all things wake to life and joy, but I; As if once more forfaken, I complain, And close my eyes to dream of you again: Then frantic rife, and like fome fury rove Through lonely plains, and through the filent

grove;

As if the filent grove, and lonely plains,
That knew my pleasures, could relieve my pains.
I view the grotto, once the fcene of love,
The recks around, the hanging roofs above,
That charm'd me more, with native mofs o'er-
grown,

Than Phrygian marble, or the Parian stone.
I find the fhades that veil'd our joys before;
But, Phaon gone, thofe fhades delight no more.
Here the prefs'd herbs with bending tops betray
Where oft entwin'd in amorous folds we lay;
I kifs that earth which once was prefs'd by you,
And all with tears the withering herbs bedew.
For thee the fading trees appear to mourn,
And birds defer their fongs till thy return:
Night fhades the groves, and all in filence lie,.
All but the mournful Philomel and I :
With mournful Philomel I join my strain,
Of Tereus fhe, of Phaon I complain.

A fpring there is, whose filver waters show,
Clear as a glafs, the fhining fands below;
A flowery Lotos fpreads its arms above,
Shades all the banks, and feems itself a grove;
Eternal greens the moffy margin grace,
Watch'd by the Sylvan genius of the place.
Here as I lay, and fwell'd with tears the flood,
Before my fight a watery virgin stood:

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There injur'd lovers, leaping from above, "Their flames extinguish, and forget to love. "Deucalion once with hopclefs fury burn'd, "In vain he lov'd, relentless Pyrrha scorn'd: “But when from hence he plung'd into the main, "Deucalion fcorn'd, and Pyrrha lov'd in vain. "Hafte, Sappho, hafte, from high Leucadia throw "Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below!"

She fpoke, and vanifh'd with the voice-I rife,
And filent tears fall trickling from my eyes.

go, ye nymphs thofe rocks and feas to prove;
How much I fear, but ah, how much I love!
I go, ye nymphs, where furious love inspires;
Let female fears fubmit to female fires.
To rocks and feas 1 fly from Phaon's hate,
And hope from feas and rocks a milder fate.
Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow,
And foftly lay me on the waves below!
And thou, kind love, my firking limbs fuftain,
Spread thy foft wings, and waft me o'er the main,
Nor let a lover's death the guiltlefs flood pro-

fane!

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On Phœbus' fhrine my harp I'll then beftow,
And this infcription fhall be plac'd below.
"Here fhe who fung, to him that did infpire,

Sappho to Phœbus confecrates her lyre; "What fits with Sappho, Phoebus, fuits with thee; "The gift, the giver, and the god agree.'

By why, alas, relentless youth, ah, why
To diftant feas muft tender Sappho fly?
Thy charms than thofe may far more powerful be,
And Phoebus' felf is lefs a god to me.
Ah! canst thou doom me to the rocks and fea,
O, far more faithlefs, and more hard than they?
Ah! canft thou rather fee this tender breat
Dash'd on these rocks than to thy bofom prefs'd;
This breaft, which once, in vain! you lik'd fo well;
Where the loves play'd, and where the mufes dwell?
Alas the mufes now no more infpire,
Untun'd my lute, and filent is my lyre;
My languid numbers have forgot to flow,
And fancy finks beneath a weight of woe.
Ye Lesbian virgins, and ye Lesbian dames,
Themes of my verfe, and objects of my flames,
No more your groves with my glad fongs fhall ring,
No more thefe hands fhall touch the trembling
string:

My Phaon's fled, and I thofe arts refign,
(Wretch that I am, to call that Phaon mine!)
Return, fair youth, and bring along
Joy to my foul, and vigour to my fong :
Abfent from thee, the poet's flame expires;
But ah! how fiercely burn the lover's fires?
Gods! can no prayers, no fighs, no numbers, move
One favage heart, or teach it how to love?
The winds my prayers, my fighs, my numbers bear,
The flying winds have loft them all in air!
Oh when, alas fhall more aufpicious gales
To these fond eyes reftore thy welcome fails?
If you return-ah, why thefe long delays?
Poor Sappho dies while careless Phaon stays.
O, launch thy bark, nor fear the watery plain!
Venus for thee fhall fmooth her native main.
O, launch thy bark, fecure of profperous gales!
Cupid for thee fhall fpread the fwelling fails.
If you will fly-(yet ah! what caufe can be,
Too cruel youth, that you should fly from me?)
If not from Phaon, I must hope for calc,
Ah, let me feek it from the raging feas!
To raging feas unpity'd I'll remove,
And either ceafe to live, or ceafe to love!

ELOISA TO ABELARD.

Argument.

ABELARD and Eloifa flourished in the twelfth century; they were two of the most diftinguished perfons of their age in learning and beauty, lut for nothing more famous than for their unfortunate paflion. After a long courfe of calamities, they retired each to a feveral convent, and confecrated the remainder of their days to religion. It was many years after this feparation, that a letter of Abelard's to a friend, which contained the hiftory of his misfortunes, fell into the handa

of Eloifa. This awakening all her tenderness,
occafioned thofe celebrated letters (out of which
the following is partly extracted), which give
fo lively a picture of the struggles of grace and
nature, virtue and pansion.

In these deep folitudes and awful cells,
Where heavenly-penfive contemplation dwells,
And ever-mufing melancholy reigns;
What means this tumult in a veftal's veins ?
Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat?
Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?
Yet, yet I love From Abelard it came,
And Eloifa yet must kiss the name.

Dear, fatal name! reft ever unreveal'd,
Nor pafs thefe lips in holy filence feal'd;
Hide it, my heart, within that clofe difguife,
Where, mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies:
O, write it not, my hand-the name appears
Already written-wash it out my tears!
In vain loft Eloifa weeps and prays,
Her heart ftill dictates, and her hand obeys.
Relentless walls! whofe darkfome round con-
tains

Repentant fighs, and voluntary pains:

Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn;
Ye grots and caverns fhagg'd with horrid thorn!
Shrines where their vigils pale-eyed virgins keep;
And pitying faints, whofe ftatues learn to weep!
Though cold like you, unmov'd and filent grown,
I have not yet forgot myself to ftone.

All is not heaven's while Abelard has part,
Still rebel nature holds out half my heart;
Nor prayers, nor fafts, its stubborn pulfe restrain,
Nor tears for ages taught to flow in vain.

Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,
That well-known name awakens all my woes.
Oh, name for ever fad! for ever dear!
Still breath'd in fighs, still usher'd with a tear.
tremble too, where'er my own I find,
Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
Line after line my guhing eyes o'erflow,
Led through a fad variety of woe:
Now warm in love, now withering in my bloom,
Loft in a convent's folitary gloom!
There ftern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame,
There dy'd the beft of paffions, love and fame.

Yet write, oh, write me all, that I may join Griefs to thy griefs, and echo fighs to thine! Nor foes nor fortune take this power away; And is my Abelard lefs kind than they? Tears ftill are mine, and thofe I need not fpare, Love bur demands what elfe were thed in prayer; No happier talk these faded eyes pursue ; To read and weep is all they now can do.

Then fhare thy pain, allow that fad relief; Ah, more than fhare it, give me all thy grief. Heav'n firft taught letters for fome wretch's aid, Sme banish'd lover, or fome captive maid; [fpires, They live, they speak, they breathe what love in Warm from the ioul, and faithful to its fires, 1 he virgin's wish without her tears impart, Excufe the blush, and pour cut all the heart, Speed the foft intercourie frem foul to foul, And waft a figh from Indus to the pole.

Thoa know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame, When love approach'd me underfriendship's name; My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind, Some emanation of th' ail-beauteous mind. Thofe fmiling eyes, attempering every ray, Shone fweetly lambent with celestial day. Guiltless I gaz'd; heaven liften'd while you fung; And truths divine came mended from that tongue. From lips like those what precept fail'd to move? Too foon they taught me 'twas no fin to love: Back through the paths of pleafing fense I ṛan, Nor wifh'd an angel whom I lov'd a man. Dim and remote the joys of faints I fee, Nor envy them that heaven I lofe for thee.

How oft, when prefs'd to marriage, have I said, Curfe on all laws but thofe which love has made! Love, free as air, at fight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies. Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame, Auguft her deed, and facred be her fame ; Before true paffion all thofe views remove; Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to love! The jealous God, when we profane his fires, Thofe reftlefs paffions in revenge infpires, And bids them make miflaken mortals groan, Who feek in love for aught but love alone. Should at my feet the world's great master fall, Himself, his throne, his world, I'd fcorn them all : Not Cæfar's emprefs would I deign to prove; No, make me miftrefs to the man I love.

If there be yet another name more free, More fond than mistress, make me that to thee! Oh, happy flate! when fouls each other draw, When love is liberty, and nature law : All then is full, poffeffing and poffefs'd, No craving void left aching in the breaft: Ev'n thought meets thought, e'er from the lips it

part,

And each warm wifh fprings mutual from the heart.
This fure is blifs (if blifs on earth there be),
And once the lot of Abelard and me.

Alas, how chang'd! what fudden horrors rife !
A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!
Where, where was Eloife? her voice, her hand,
Her poniard had oppos'd the dire command.
Barbarian, flay! that bloody ftroke restrain;
The crime was common, common be the pain.
I can no more; by fhame, by rage fuppref'd,
Let tears and burning blushes fpeak the reft.

Canft thou forget that fad, that folemn day,
When victims at yon altar's foot we lay?
Canft thou forget what tears that moment fell,
When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?
As with cold lips 1 kife'd the facred veil,
The fhrines all trembled, and the lamps grew pale:
Heaven fearce believ'd the conqueft it furvey'd,
And faints with wonder heard the vows I made.
Yet then, to thofe dread altars as I drew,
Not on the cross my eyes were fix'd, but you :
Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call;
And if I lofe thy love, 1 lofe my all

Come with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe;
Those still at least are left thee to bestow.
Still on that breaft enamour'd let me lie,
Still drink delicious poifon from thy eye,

Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be prefs'd;
Give all thou canft-and let me dream the reft.
Ah, no! inftruct me other joys to prize,
With other beauties charm my partial eyes,
Fall in my view fet all the bright abode,
And make my foul quit Abelard for God.

Ah, think at least thy flock deferves thy care!
Plants of thy hand, and children of thy prayer.
From the falfe world in early youth they fied,
By thee to mountains, wilds, and deferts led.
You rais'd thefe hallow'd walls; the defert fmil'd,
And paradife was open'd in the wild.
No weeping orphan faw his father's flores
Our fhrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;
No filver faints, by dying mifers given,
Here bribe the rage of ill-requited heaven;
But fech plain roofs as piety could raife,
And only vocal with the Maker's praife.
In thefe lone walls (their days eternal bound)
These mofs-grown domes with spiry turrets
crown'd,

Where awful arches make a noon-day night,
And the dim windows fhed a folema light;
Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray,
And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day.
But now no face divine contentment wears,
'Tis all blank fadnefs, or continual tears.
See how the force of others prayers i try,
(0 pious fraud of amorous charity!)
But why fhould I on others prayers depend?
Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!
Ah, let thy handmaid, fifter, daughter, move,
And all thofe tender names in one, thy love!
The darkfome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd
Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind,
The wandering ftreams 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 reft the visionary maid.

But o'er the twilight groves and dufky caves,
Long-founding aifles, and intermingled graves,
Black melancholy fits, and round her throws
A death-like filence, and a dread repofe;
Her gloomy prefence faddens all the scene,
Shades every flower, and darkens every green,
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
And breathes a browner horror on the woods.
Yet here for ever, ever must I ftay;
Sad proof how well a lover can obey!
Death, only death, can break the lafting chain;
And here, ev'n then, fhall 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,

Confefs'd within the flave of love and man.
Affift me, heaven! but whence arofe that prayer?
Sprung it from piety, or from defpair?
Ev'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 folicit new;
Now turn'd to heaven, I weep my past offence,
Now think of thee, and curfe my innocence.
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,
'Tis fure the hardeft fcience to forget!
How fhall I lose the fin, yet keep the fenfe,
And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence?
How the dear object from the crime remove,
Or how distinguish penitence from love?
Unequal talk! a paflion to refign,

For hearts fo touch'd, fo pierc'd, fo loft as mine!
E'er fuch a foul regains its peaceful state,
How often muft it love, how often hate!
How often hope, despair, refent, regret,
Conceal, difdain-do all things but forget!
But let heaven feize it, all at once 'tis fir'd:
Not touch'd, but rapt; not weaken'd, but infpir'd!
Oh, come! oh, teach me nature te fubdue,
Renounce my love, my life, myfelf--and you!,
Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he
Alone can rival, can fucceed to thee.

How happy is the blameless veftal's lot;
The world forgetting, by the world forgot!
Eternal fun-fhine of the spotlefs mind!
Each prayer accepted, and each with refign'd;
Labour and reft that equal periods keep;
"Obedient lumbers that can wake and weep;"
Defires compos'd, affections ever even;

Tears that delight, and fighs that waft to heaven.
Grace fhines around her with ferencft beams,
And whispering angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading rofe of Eden blooms,
And wings of feraphs fhed divine perfumes;
For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring;
For her white virgins hymenæals fing:
To founds of heavenly harps the dies away,
And melts in vifions of eternal day.

Far other dreams my erring foul employ,
Far other raptures of unholy joy:
When at the clofe of each fad, forrowing day,
Fancy restores what vengeance fnatch'd away,
Then confcience fleeps, and leaving nature free,
All my loofe foul unhounded fprings to thee.
O, curft, dear horrors of all-confcious night!
How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
Provoking demons all restraint remove,
And stir within me every fource of love.

I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,
And round thy phantom glue my clafping 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:
Iftretch my empty arms; it glides away.
To dream once more I clofe my willing eyes;
Ye foft illufions, dear deceits, arife:

Alas, no more! methinks we wandering go
Through dreary waftes, and weep each other's woe,
Where round fome mouldering tower pale ivy
creeps,

And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
Sudden you mount, you beckon from the fkies;
Clouds interpofe, waves roar, and winds arife.
I fhrick, ftart up, the fame fad profpect find,
And wake to all the griefs 1 left behind.

For thee the fates, feverely kind, ordain A cool fufpenfe from pleafure and from pain; Thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repofe; No pulfe that riots, and no blood that glows. Still as the feas, e'er winds were taught to blow, Or moving spirit bade the waters flow; Soft as the flumbers of a faint forgiven, And mild as opening gleams of promis'd heaven. Come, Abelard! for what haft thou to dread? The torch of Venus burns not for the dead. Nature ftands check'd; religion difapproves; Ev'n thou art cold-yet Eloifa loves. Ah, hopeless, lafting flames! like those 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 wafte the matin lamp in fighs for thee, Thy image fteals between my God and me, Thy voice I feem in every hymn to hear, With every 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, Priefts, 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 gathering in my eye, While, praying, trembling, in the duft I roll, And dawning grace is opening on my foul: Come, if thou dar'it, all charming as thou art! Oppofe thyself to heaven; difpute my heart; Come, with one glance of thofe deluding eyes Blot out each bright idea of the skies; [tears; Take back that grace, thofe forrows, and thofe Take back my fruitlefs penitence and prayers; Snatch me, juft mounting, from the bleft abode; Aflift the fiends, and tear me from my God!

No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole;
Rite 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 locks (which yet i view!)
Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!

O, grace ferenc! O virtue heavenly fair!
Divine oblivion of lew-thoughted care!
Fresh-blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky!
And faith, our early immortality!
Enter, each mild, each amicable gueft;
Receive and wrap me in eternal reft!

See in her cell fad Eloita fpread,
Propt on fone tomb, a neighbour of the dead.
In each low wind methirks a fpirit calls,
And more than echoes talk along the walls.
Here, as I watch'd the dying lamp around,
From yonder farine 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 thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd,
"Love's victim then, though now a fainted maid :
"But all is calm in this eternal fleep;

"Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep:
"Ev'n fuperftition lofes every fear;
"For God, not man, abfolves our frailties here."
I come, I come! prepare your rofeate bowers,
Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flowers.
Thither, where finners may have rest, I go,
Where flames refin'd in breasts feraphic glow:
Thou, Abelard! the last fad office pay,
And smooth my paffage to the realms of day;
Sce my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying foul!
Ah, no-in facred veftments mayst thou stand,
The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,
Prefent the crois before my lifted eye,
Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloifa fee!
It will be then no crime to gaze on me.
See from my check the transient roses fly!
See the laft fparkle languish in my eye!
Till every motion, pulfe, and breath be o'er ;
And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more.
O, death all cloquent you only prove
What duft we doat on, when 'tis man we love.

Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy, (That caufe of all my guilt, and all my joy), In trance ecftatic may the pangs be drown'd, Bright clouds defcend, and angels watch thee round,

From opening kies may ftreaming glories fhine, And faints 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, When this rebellious heart fhall beat no more; If ever chance two wandering lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and filver fprings, 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 thefe have lov'd!" From the full choir, when loud hofannahs rife, And fwell the pomp of dreadful facrifice, Amid that fcene of fome relenting eye Glance on the ftone where our cold relics lie, Devotion's felf fhall fteal a thought from heaven, One human tear fhall drop, and be forgiven. 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 flory tell! The well-iung woes will foothe my penfive ghoft; He beft can paint them who fhall feel them most.

TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THR following translations were felected from many others done by the Author in his youth; for the most part indeed but a fort of exercises, while he was improving himself in the languages, and carried by his early bent to poetry to perform them rather in verfe than profe. Mr. Dryden's Fables came out about that time, which occasioned the Translations from Chaucer. They were first separately printed in Mifcellanies, by J. Tonfon and B. Lintot, and afterwards collected in the Quarto Edition of 1717. The Imitations of English Authors, which follow, were done as early, fome of them at fourteen or fifteen years old.

THE TEMPLE of fame.
Written in the Year 1711.

ADVERTISEMENT.

The Author of this therefore chose the fame fort of exordium.

IN that soft season, when defcending showers
Call forth the greens, and wake the rifing flowers;
When opening buds falute the welcome day,
And earth relenting feels the genial ray;
As balmy fleep had charm'd my cares to reft,
And love itself was banish'd from my breast,
(What time the morn mysterious visions brings,
While purer flumbers fpread their golden wings),
A train of phantoms in wild order rofe,
And, join'd, this intellectual fcene compose.
I ftood, methought, betwixt earth, feas, and
fkies,

Taz hint of the following piece was taken from
Chaucer's House of Fame. The defign is in a
manner entirely altered, the defcriptions and moft
of the particular thoughts my own; yet I could
not fuffer it to be printed without this acknow-
ledgment. The reader who would compare this
with Chaucer, may begin with his third book of
Fame, there being nothing in the two first books
that answers to their title: wherever any hint is
taken from him, the paffage itself is fet down The whole creation open to my eyes:
in the marginal notes.

The poem is introduced in the manner of the Pro

vençal poets, whofe works were for the most part vilions, or pieces of imagination, and conftantly defcriptive. From thefe, Petrarch and Chaucer frequently borrowed the idea of their poems. See the Trionfi of the former, and the Dream, Flower, and the Leaf, &c. of the latter.

2

IMITATIONS.

10

Ver.11, &c.] Thefe verfes are hinted from the fol-
lowing of Chaucer, Book ii.
Though beheld I fields and plains,
Now hills, and now mountains,

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