O launch thy bark, fecure of profp'rous gales;
Cupid for thee fhall spread the swelling fails.
If you will fly-(yet ah! what cause can be,
Too cruel youth, that you should fly from me?) 255
If not from Phaon I muft hope for ease,

Ah let me seek it from the raging feas:
To raging feas unpity'd I'll remove,
And either cease to live, or cease to love!

ELOISA

ELOISA

то

A B EL AR D.

S2

The ARGUMENT.

A

BELARD and Eloifa flourished in the twelfth cen

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tury; they were two of the most distinguished perfons of their age in learning and beauty, but for nothing more famous than for their unfortunate paffion. After a long course of calamities, they retired each to a several convent, and confecrated the remainder of their days to religion. It was many years after this separation, that a letter of Abelard's to a friend, which contained the hiftory of his misfortune, fell into the hands 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 ftruggles of grace and nature, virtue and paffion.

ELOISA

EL O

O IS A

A B E L AR D.

N thefe deep folitudes and awful cells,
Where heav'nly-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 muft kifs the name.

Dear fatal name! reft ever unreveal'd,
Nor pass these lips in holy filence feal'd:
Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise,
Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies:
Oh write it not, my hand-the name appears
Already written-wafh it out, my tears!
In vain loft Eloifa weeps and prays,
Her heart ftill dictates, and her hand obeys.
Relentless walls! whofe darkfome round contains
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-ey'd virgins keep,
And pitying faints, whofe ftatues learn to weep!
Tho' cold like you, unmov'd and filent grown,
I have not yet forgot myself to ftone.
All is not Heav'n's, while Abelard has part,
Still rebel nature holds out half my heart;

Nor pray'rs nor fafts its ftubborn pulse restrain,
Nor tears, for ages, taught to flow in vain.

Soon as thy letters trembling I unclofe,
That well-known name awakens all my woes.
Oh name for ever fad! for ever dear!

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Still breath'd in fighs, ftill ufher'd with a tear.
I tremble too where'er my own I find,

Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
Line after line my gufhing eyes o'erflow,
Led thro' a fad variety of woe:

Now warm in love, now with'ring 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 pow'r away;
And is my Abelard lefs kind than they?
Tears ftill are mine, and those I need not fpare,
Love but demands what elfe were fhed in pray'r;
No happier task thefe faded eyes purfue;
To read and weep is all they now can do.

Then fhare thy pain, allow that fad relief;

35

45

Ah, more than fhare it! give me all thy grief.
Heav'n firft taught letters for fome wretch's aid,
Some banish'd lover, or fome captive maid ;

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They live, they speak, they breathe what love infpires, Warm from the foul, and faithful to its fires,

The virgin's wifh without her fears impart,

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Excufe the blufh, and pour out all the heart,

Speed the foft intercourfe from foul to foul,
And waft a figh from Indus to the Pole.

Thou know'ft how guiltless firft I met thy flame, When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name; 60 My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind, Some emanation of th' all-beauteous mind. Thofe fmiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry ray, Shone fweetly lambent with celeftial day.

Guiltless