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Dim and remote the joys of faints I fee;
How oft, when press’d to marriage, have I said,
90 Oh! happy state ! when souls each other draw, When love is liberty, and nature, law:
Love will not be confin'd by Maisterie :
All then is full, poffeffing, and possest,
Alas how chang’d! what sudden horrors rise !
Canst thou forget that fad, that folemn day,
115 Not on the Cross my eyes were fix’d, but you : Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call, And if I lose thy love, I lose my
Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe; Those still at least are left thee to bestow. 120 Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie, Still drink delicious poison from thy eye, Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press’d ; Give all thou canst and let me dream the rest. Ah no ! instruct me other joys to prize, 125 With other beauties charm my partial eyes, Full in my view set all the bright abode, And make my foul quit Abelard for God.
Ah think at least thy flock deserves thy care, Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray’r. 130 From the falle world in early youth they fled, By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led. You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'd, And Paradise was open’d in the Wild. No weeping orphan saw his father's stores 135 Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors; No silver faints, by dying misers giv'n, Here brib’d the rage of ill-requited heav'n: But such plain roofs as Piety could raise, And only vocal with the Maker's praise. 140 In these lone walls (their days eternal bound) These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd,
Nores. Ver. 133. You rais'd these hallow'd walls;] He found. ed the Monaitery. P.
Where awful arches make a noon-day night,
145 And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day. But now no face divine contentment wears, 'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears. See how the force of others pray’rs I try, (O pious fraud of am'rous charity !)
150 But why should I on others pray’rs depend ? Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend! Ah let thy handmaid, fister, daughter move, And all those tender names in one, thy love! The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, The wand'ring 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 ; 160 No more these scenes my meditation aid, Or lull to rest the visionary maid. But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves, Long-sounding isles, and intermingled graves, Black Melancholy fits, and round her throws 165 A death-like silence, and a dread repose : Her gloomy presence faddens all the scene, Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green,
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;
, Here all its frailties, all its flames resign, 175 And wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine.
Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain,
185 Repent old pleasures, and sollicit new; Now turn’d to heav'n, I weep my past offence, Now think of thee, and curse my innocence. Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 'Tis sure the hardest science to forget!