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Rise in the grove, before the altar rise, 265
While prostrate here in humble grief I lie, Kind virtuous drops just gath'ring in my eye; While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, And dawning grace is op'ning on my soul; 280 Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art! Oppose thyself to heav'n; 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; Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs; 286 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,
296 O Grace serene! O Virtue, heav'nly fair! Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care! Fresh blooming Hope, gay daughter of the sky! - And Faith, our early immortality!
300 Enter each mild, each amicable guest; Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest!
See in her cell sad Eloisa spread, Propt on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead, In each low wind methinks a spirit calls, 305 And more than echoes talk along the walls. Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around, From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound. “ Come, sister, come!" it said, or seem'd to say;
Thy place is here, sad sister, come away. 310 " Once, like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray’d; " 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 ev'ry fear:
315 “For God, not man, absolves our frailties here."
I come, I come, prepare your roseate bow'rs, Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs. Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go, Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow. 320 Thou, Abelard, the last sad office pay, And smooth my passage to the realms of day; See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll, Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul ! Ah, no; in sacred vestments mayst thou stand, 325 The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand, Present the cross before my lifted eye, Teach me at once, and learn of me to die. Ah then, thy once lov'd Eloisa see; It will be then no crime to gaze on me; 330 See from my cheek the transient roses fly! See the last sparkle languish in my eye! "Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er, And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more. Oh 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, (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy,) In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drown'd, Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round; From op'ning skies may streaming glories shine, 341 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 wand'ring lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, O’er the pale marble shall they join their heads, And drink the falling tears each other sheds; 350 Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd, “Oh may we never love as these have lov'd!" From the full choir when loud hosannas rise, And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice, Amid that scene if some relenting eye
355 Glance on the stone where our sad relics lie, Devotion's self shall steal a thought from heav'n, One human tear shall drop, and be forgiv'n. And sure if Fate some future bard shall join In sad similitude of griefs to mine,
360 Condemn'd 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 soothe my pensive ghost ; He best can paint 'em who shall feel them most.
TRAGEDY OF BRUTUS.
CHORUS OF ATHENIANS.
YE shades, where sacred truth is sought;
Unspotted long with human blood.
O heav'n-born sisters ! source of art!