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Where'er she looks, her eyes like lightnings wound, | Each lovely feature of this well-known facé,
To speak thy Abelard, but love of thee: Príde of my verse, and object of my catc.
Lean abstinence, pale grief, and haggard care, O take me, clasp me, melting in thy arms,
The dire attendants of forlorn despair ; Unfold thy sweets, and open all thy charms.
Have Abelard the gay, the young remov'd, On those dear breasts for ever let me rove,
And in the hermit, funk the man you lov'd. Those breasts to me the true poetic grove !
Wrape in the gloom these holy manfions shed, On those soft hills for ever let me fing,
The thorny paths of penitence I tread; And lip thy Sacred Heliconiaa spring.
Loft to the world, from all its interest free, Were Paris here to judge fair beauty's prize,
And corn from all my soul held dear in thee;
Ambition, with its train of frailties, gone,
AU loves, all forms forgot, but thine alone.
Amidft the blaze of day, and dusk of night, But since that task, that pleasing task I claim,
My Eloisa rises to my fight; O Venus guide me to a brighter flame :
Veil'd, as in Paraclete's sea-bath'd tow'rs, To Aurenclia's charms my wishes move,
The wretched mournèr counts the lagging hours; Warm her cold heart, and tune her breast to love I hear the figh, see the swift-falling tears, There, let my soul a nobler prize impart,
Weep all her griefs, and pine with all her cares. And for aq'apple, give my bleeding heart.
O vows! O converts ' your stern force inipart,
And frown the melting phantom from my heart ; ABELARD TO ELOISA.
Let other fighs a worthier sorrow show,
Let other tears, for fin, repentant flow; Is my dark cell, low proftrate on the ground, Low to the earth, my guilty eyes I roll, Mourning my crimes, thy letter entrance found; And humble to the dust my contrite soul. Too soon my Toul the well known name confest, Forgiving pow'r! your gracious call I meet, My beating heart spruog fiercely in my breast; Who first empower'd this rebel heart to beat! Through my whole frame a guilcy transport who through this trembling, this offendiug frame, glow'a
For nobler ends diffus'd life's active flame : And streaming corrents from thiy eyes fast Aow'd. O change the temper of this throbbing breast, Ò Eloisa ! art thou fill the same?
And form anew each beating pulse to reft! Dott thou still nourish this destructive flame?
Let (pringing grace, fair faith and hope remove,
The fatal traces of voluptuous love ; Have not the gentle rules of peace, and heav'n
Voluptuous love from his soft mansion tear,
And leave no cracks of Eloisa there.
Are these the wishes of thy inmost soul ?
Would I its softest tend'rest peace controul ? Can fare me from a love, a faith like thine ? Would I, thus couch'd, this gloomy heart resign Where shall I fly, when not this awful cave,
To the cold substance of the marble shrine ? Whose rugged feet the surging billows lave;
Transform'd like these pale saints that round me When not these gloomy cloister's fólemn walls,
move, O'er whose rough fides the langula ivy crawls;
o blesa'd insensibles ! that knew not love!
Not your harsh rules, but tender love, supplies Each tedious night, each sad revolving day:
The Etreams that gush from my despairing eyes : I fast, I pray; and with deceitful art
I feel the traitor melt around my heart, (dart ! Veil thy dear image from my tortur'd heart. And through my veins with treach'rous influence My tortur'd heart conflicting paflions move, Inspire me heav'n! aflift me, grace divine ! I hope, despair, repent, but itill I love.
Aid me ye faints! unknown to crimes like mine! A thousand jarring thoughts my bofom cear, You, while on earth, all pangs severe could prove For thou, not God, my Eloisè art there.
All but the tort'ring pangs of hopeless love. To the falfe world's deluding pleasures dead, An holier rage in your pure bosoms dwelt, No longer by its wand'ring fires misled;
Nor can you pity what you never felt; in learn'd disputes, harsh precepts I infuse, A sympathizing grief alone can cure, And give that counsel, I want power to use. The hand that heals, must feel, what I endure. The rigid maxims of the grave, and wise, Thou Eloise ! alone, canst give me ease, Have queoch'd cach milder sparkle in my eyes; And bid my Aruggling foul subside in peace;
Restore me to my long lost heav'n of reft, From their dead orbs that tender ute'rance filowa, And take thyself from my relu&ant brealt: Which first on yours my heare's soft tales made If crimes, like mine, could an allay receive,
known. That bless'd allay, thy wond'rous charms must This breath no more, at length, to eafe confign'd, give.
Pant, like light afpines quiv'ring with the wind; Thy form, which first my heart to love inclin'd, See, all my wild tumultuous paffions o'er, Still wanders in my loft, my guilty mind :
And thou, amazing scene : belov'd no more : I saw thee as the new-blown blossoms fair, Behold the destin'd end of human love, Sprightly as light, and soft as summer air ; But let the sight thy zeal alone improve; Wit, youth, and beauty, in each feature shone, Let not thy conscious soul, with sorrow mor'd, Bless'd by my fate, I gaz'd, and was undone ! Recal how much, how tenderly you lov'd! There dy'd the gen'rous fire, whose vig'rous flame, With pious care thy fruitless grief restrain, Enlarg’d my soup, and led me on to fame; Nor let a tear thy sacred veil profane; Nor fame, nor wealth, my foften'd heart could Nor e'en a sigh on my cold urn bestow, move,
But let thy breath with facred rapture glow; My heart, insensible to all but love!
Let love divine, srail mortal love, dethrone, Snatch'd from myself, my learning tasteless grew, And to thy mind immortal joys make known; And vain philosophy oppos'd to you.
Let Heav'n, relenting, strike thy ravifh'd view, A train of woeswe mourn; nor shouldwe mourn,
And still the bright, the blest pursuit, renew : The hours that cannot, ought not to return;
So, with thy crimes, shall thy misfortunes cease, As once to love, I fway'd thy yielding mind,
And thy wreck'd soul be calmly hush'd to peace Too fond, alas ! too fatally inclin'd ! To virtue now let me thy breast inspire, And fan, with zeal divine, the holy fire;
LAST (KING GEORGE'S) GUINEA. Teach you to injur'd heav'n, all chang'd, to turn, Inferibed to the Right Hunourable Sir Robert Walpoleo And bid thy soul with sacred raptures burn. O that my own example could impart
Wat call, bright monarch! can engage this This noble warmth to thy soft trembling heart !
breast, That mine, with pious undissembled care,
To leave thy loyal subject thus distret? [gone, Might aid the latent virtue struggling there!
Who knows, my guardian-aid, when thou art Alas, I rave ! nor grace, nor zeal divine,
What foreign tyrant will usurp thy throne? Burns in a breast o'erwhelm'd with crimes, like
When want, rebellious, arrugates thy reiga, mine:
What equal power shall faclion's rage refrain ! Too sure I find (whilft I the fortune prove
Too well, alas! my future state I see, Of feeble piety, conflicting love)
I can but figh, and only think of thee! On black despair, my forc'd devotion built,
So, when thy bright original repairs Absence, to me, has greater pangs than guilt. To foreign rcalms, with equal griefs and cares :
Britannia mourns; and anxious for her fate, Ah! yet my Eloisè, thy charme I view, Yet my fighs break, and my tears flow for you;
Implores fome favourite to prote& the State ; Each weak refiftance stronger knits my chain,
Wisely, as still, the monarch makes his choice, I sigh, weep, love, despair, repent in vain!
And for his Walpole joins the general voice. Haite Eliosa, hafte, thy lover free,
O couldlt thou there advance an equal claim, Amidst thy warmer pray’rs, O think of me! Repos’d in him, our safety were the fame! Wing with thy rising zeal my grov'ling mind : Aufpicious thought! and with what case may be, And let me mine, from thy repentance find :
Who has secur'd three nations, succour mc. Ah! labour, strive, thy love, thyself controul,
The change will sure affect my kindred soul : TO A NEEDLE THAT PRICK'D HIS MISIn blest concert our purer fighs shall grieve,
TRESS'S FINGER, And, Heav'n aflifting, shall our crimes forgive.
From Bonefonius *
MIRACLE of cruelty !
Must my Laura bleed by thee!
Her finger too, endure the smart? if kill thy heart thy wonted passions move,
That tender, inoffensive part!
What could the sweet offender do,
Soft, and fair, as falling snow;
To suffer innocently too ! Attend the stronger eloquence of death.
Was it not envy caus'd this hate, When that kind pow'er this captive soul shall Because thyself were found less strait ? free,
Did not this thy fury move
* All the love poems of this celebrated autbor, er Then Eloisa, then, thy lover view, See, these quench'd eyes, no longer fix'd on you,
tranfated by several bands. Printed for H. Carll
, te the Strand.
But, ah! then dreadful foe, forbear
His nice creating fancy could impart,
Fire to each charnı, and flames to ev'ry heart;
Yet all this skill could but at best command
A fancy'd goddess at the second hand.
You brighter nymph, can greater wonders fiowi
And all this fuperficial art out-do ;
What if his hand a seeming life couid give,
Your greater wonder more than feems to live! Her bosoni: colder than the frow,
His nymph, at beft, could only raise our fire,
But you create, and satisfy delire.
TO ONE WHO BLAMED ME
For writing in praise of a very undeserving Lady.
lown, my friend, Olivia is not fair,
An awkward creature, with a flattern air;
She's nature's error, I confess indeed,
What then the fick alone the decor need :
Thus cunning tradesmen praise their paltry ware, ON LAURINDA.
And cry, the very belt in all the fair;
But let che diamonds sparkle into fame,
When fancy's in her infancy, the muse
Some trivial theme, in trifling lays, pursues,
And crowns her actions with immortal fame.
Thus thc keen sword that's bath'd in heroes blood, 0! would fume other powers employ their care, To make her kind, as these have made her fair;
Firit to be temper'd, drinks the filthly flood: Thae single act should all the rest outthine,
PRESENTING WALLER'S POZMS And make the fair perfecion all divine.
TO A LADY.
Accept the softest sweetest frains,
That ever breath'd a dying lover's pains ;
That ever yet could unfuccessful prove,
When arm'd with all the eloquence of love,
And if you find some tender moving part,
Soften your soul, and steal upon your heart;
(For sure the most obdurate maid must blame, Nor in that heaven of sweets could fear a fting
The rigid coyness of the cruel dame):
Then lovely Laura, think, you faintly feel
The symptonis of a flame I dare not tell;
Think, then, you hear your suppliant lover ligh,
But generously, more than fee him die;
And if you kindly listen to his pain,
TO A LADY
AT KING'S-COLLEGE CHAPEL, CAMBRIDGE,
Where holy hymns, and solemn songs of praise,
A venerable adoration raise ;
Transportng sounds! my fainting senses rise,
Wing'd with the sweeter music of your eyes : OLD LADY THAT USED TO PAINT.
Your eyes that speak a form so bright, fo fair,
You seem the object of each fervent prayer.
Aspiring vanity can hope no miorc---
N n iij
But ah! forbear, thou holy fair, unknown, Chiefelt good! for in you is
Every part of happiness :
Whilft I thus myself enjoy.
Ere the heavens or earth were made, Alas! I feel the fatal poison run,
Or their vaft foundations laid ; I gaze, I figh, I love, and am undone--
Ere angels yet were caught to fing,
Ye governors of colleges;
What deeper wisdom can you know,
Than caly nature's works here show? ('That newest French edition of an ass ?
All the lonesome night ye pore,
To what prodigious vast account
And yet his wisdom was---he nothing koew.
Come, ye covetouş! ye proud!
Comc, ye wise fantastic crowd! Triumphs in rigadoon, or dies in song.
And as your follies ye discern,
Nature's plain instructions learn.
See, this river, as it goes,
With what eloquence it flows?
How deep, how rapidly serene !
But should it fearful of decay, A lion's heart, the gen'rous boy
Stagnate, and Bop up its way; Proudly in ev'ry act maintains,
longer would its streams appear, Bravely attacks the nymph when coy,
Wholesome, delicate, or clear: When yielding bravely he disdains:
But bury'd in a quagmire fink,
Or in 'a choking deluge stink.
Believe me, life's the very fame,
The very image of this stream: Poor Ned still wants the lady's hand.
If of future fortune fearless,
If of present changes, careless, THE MORNING CONTEMPLATION.
It uninterrupted goes,
How sweet and how serene it flows: As I range these spacious fields,
But if stope with these restraints, Feast on all that nature yields;
Present ills, and future wants; Ev'ry thing conspires delight,
If anxious doubts, and clogging care, Charms my smell, my taste, my fight;
Betray our reason to despair; Ev'ry rural sound I hear
Life's dull enjoyment only cloys, Soothes my soul, and tunes my ear.
And painfully itself deltrus. Yonder azure hills arising,
View this revential shade!
Sacred to retirement made!
What surprißing sweets surround me!
What varieties confound me!
Bless'd in this obfcure abode,
I think myself almoft a god! Birds on blossom’d hawthorns, ling
I think myself so too the more, Jocund carols to the spring;
Because I'm out of envy's power! Hopping o'er the fragrant lawa,
And if angels envious be, Merrily salute the dawn,
They alone dare envy me; And with their music seem to chide
And doing so, they let me know Mau's ingratitude and pride.
I am happier here below. O venerable Solitude !
Where is felf-enamour'd pride Best of blessings, chiefel good!
Tinsel vanity beide :
th what gilded rooms of ftate
Learn by thy fate, and oft experienc'd cott, Shaking with the storms of fate
Our temples fill the true Palladium boast : Do they now luxurious lie,
With shame review that dire vindi&ive day, Bound in purple slavery!
When hostile nations plow'd the liquid way; Can their artificial flowers
With rebel rage inspir'd, but ah : how vain Rival these delightful bowers ?
They bray'd the Cynthia of our British main ! Compar'd with nature's charms, how faiat Wing'd with false hopes, their floating cities fico, Is their mimic-colour'd paint ?
Like Sodom, doom'd co flamning vengeance too : I, the living forest have,
Immortal Drake, the British thunder drove, They the empty shadows crave;
Swift, as the bolt, hot-hilling from above; Yet, in spite of all their theft,
Wide o'er the main, the bright infection flew, I too have better shadows left.
And Aying, with tempestuous fury grew; Beh Id this little scrubby thorn,
Reflecting billows shoc a gleamy glare, Of verdure destitute, fo-loro,
And boil'd, and flam'd, with elemental war; As if it were e'en nature's scorn.
From the deep cavern of his oozy bed, Yet this, is of much more possess'd,
Old Ocean's lire emerg'd his azure head; Than any tyrant of the east;
Like Scorching Xanthus, felt his floods retire, Is richer; nay, is happier far
And roar’d in anguish at the god of fire : Than oriental monarchs are :
But when he saw Britannia's peace alarm'd, Can, with equal grandeur, show,
And Heav'n, and Drake, with sacred vengeance les brilliant head with diamonds glow :
arm'd; And contented, knows, next day
With billowing storms he urg'd the work of fate, Doubly will the loss repay,
And heav'd huge mountains at the burning fleet; If fortune snarches it away.
The burning fleet deplore their impious aim, Princely honours thus remain,
And dread the thund'rer, now they feel his flame; Apd thus they fee-but me'er return again With shame, with anguish, and with guilt, expire, But this flow'ry meadow walking,
Or sink in wat'ıy floods, or fvods ot fire. To this prattling echo talking;
Calm o'er the waves great Drake triumphant As along the stream ! pals,
rode, Gazing o: my floating face ;
Safe in the facred (antion of a god; Lo! the ruffling winds arise,
His ark, like Noah's, saw the whelming tide, To snatch the prospect from my eyes :
Absorp an impious world, and gorge its pride, The mimic form that fury braves,
Conquest sat smiling at the scene Heav'n wrought, And proudly triumphs o'er the waves;
And, like the dove, the peaceful olive brought : Yet chough with ev'ry wave 'eis toft,
Like Isrạel, England, on her sea-beat shore, The reflection is not loft.
Beheld the proud Egyptians, proud no more. Virtue wages such a strife,
But, as when once, the rebel Titans (trove, this turbulent Itrcam of life;
And fell fad victims to a vengeful Jove; Rack'd with passions, tost with fears,
Sprung from the poison of their Hydra gore, Vex'd with jealousies, and cares :
A race arosc, as impious as before; But a good unfpotted foul,
A race, that durst usurp the bless'd abodes, Though subjed, yet knows no controul,
Defy the thupd'rer, and dethrone the gods : Whils it turns on virtue's polę.
So, from this base defeat, with impious rage,
New Titans dar'd our British gods engage; But, lo! the clouds obscure the sun,
Salmoneus like, with mimic power they ftrove, Swift saadaws o'er the waters rua : Trembling too, my shadow flies?
And madly arm'd the thunder 'gainst its Jove. And by its very likeness dies.
In the deep bosom of the cavern'd earth, Hence learn, refleding Pattison,
Close plotting treasoo laid the nitrous birth;
Old midwife-night with dusky pinions face, How filent fate itill hurries on,
To hatch the secds, and brood them into fate : How suddenly you must be gone !
When Britain's genius from his ruling itar, And as you now can tell no more,
Beheld the latent ruin from afar; The likeness that your visage wore,
(Such, once in heav'n, he saw black treasons rage On the surface of the flood,
When rebel angel durrt their God engage) Vhere but now you gazing food :
With failing wings the facred pow'r descends, So, as soon as you shall dic,
And hov'ring o'er his ille incumbent bends; And resign mortality;
With tutelary care, the guardian fate, The delulive breath of fame,
And anxious, watch'd the birth of future fate. hall forget your very name.
And now che gloomy wings of sable night,
Embrown'd the filver empire of the night; VERSES ON THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER.
Nor yet the choral cock proclaim'd the day, MOURN, Rome! thy baffled arts, thy conquer'd But all in filence, all in horror lay:
No breathing breeze the dreary forelt hakes, For know! 'gis bcav'n thy impious zcal disarma ; And Heaves alone with watchful urcafon yakés: