Letters of Abelard and Heloise. To which is prefix'd, A particular account of their lives, amours, and misfortunes, extr. chiefly from [the Dictionnaire of] m. Bayle, tr. [by J. Hughes]. By J. Hughes. Together with the poem of Eloisa to Abelard, by mr. Pope, and the poem of Abelard to Eloisa, by mrs. Madan

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Pàgina 122 - Oh! happy state! when souls each other draw, When love is liberty, and nature law...
Pàgina 124 - The darksome pines, that o'er yon rocks reclin'd, Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, The wandering 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...
Pàgina 122 - Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies...
Pàgina 123 - With other beauties charm my partial eyes, Full in my view set all the bright abode, And make my soul quit Abelard for God.
Pàgina 121 - Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join. Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine. Nor foes nor fortune take this power away; And is my Abelard less kind than they?
Pàgina 128 - 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 lov'd, ador'd ideas!
Pàgina 121 - Nor prayers nor fasts its stubborn pulse 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.
Pàgina 129 - O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads, And drink the falling tears each other sheds; Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd, 'Oh may we never love as these have lov'd!
Pàgina 122 - em all : Not Casfar'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...
Pàgina 126 - 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 soft illusions, dear deceits, arise ! 240 Alas no more ! — methinks we wandring go Thro...

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