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I come, I come! prepare your roseate bowers, Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flowers. Thither, where siuners may have rest, I go, Where flames refin’d in breasts seraphic glow: Thon, 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, 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 Eloïsa see ! It will be then no crime to gaze on me; See from my cheek the transient roses fly! See the last sparkle languish in my eye! Till every motion, pulse, and breath be oʻer; And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more. O Death, all-eloquent! you only prove 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 opening skies may streaming glories shine, 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, When this rebellious heart shall beat no more: If ever chance two wandering lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, Ofer the pale marble shall they join their heads, And drink the falling tears each other sheds;

Then sadly say, with mutual pity movid,
O may, we never love as these have lov'd!
From the full choir when loud hosapnas rise,
And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice,
Amid that scene if some relenting eye
Glance on the stone where our cold 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,
Condemn'd whole years in abserce 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 sooth my pensive ghost ;
He best can paint 'em who shall feel 'em most.

ELEGY

TO THE

MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY.

What beck’ning ghost along the moon-light shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
'Tis she !--but why that bleeding bosom gord?
Why dimly gleams the visionary sword?
Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell,
Is it, in Heaven, a crime to love too well?
To bear too tender, or too firm a heart,
To act a lover's or a Roman's part?
Is there no bright reversion in the sky
For those who greatly think, or bravely die?

Why bade ye else, ye powers! her soul aspire Above the vulgar flight of low desire

103 Ambition first sprung from your bless'd abodes, The glorious fault of angels and of gods : Thence to their images on earth it flows, And in the breasts of kings and heroes glows. Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age, Dull sullen prisoners in the body's cage : Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres; Like eastern kings a lazy state they keep, And, close confin'd to their own palace, sleep.

From these, perhaps, (ere nature bade her die) Fate snatch'd her early to the pitying sky. As into air the purer spirits flow, And separate from their kindred dregs below; So tew the soul to its congenial place, Nor left one virtue to redeem her race.

But thou, false guardian of a charge too good, Thou, mean deserter of thy brother's blood ! See on those ruby lips the trembling breath, These cheeks now fading at the blast of death ; Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before, And those love-darting eyes must roll no more. Thus, if eternal justice rules the ball, Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall : On all the line a sudden vengeance waits, And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates ; There passengers shall stand, and pointing say, (While the long funerals blacken all the way) Lo! these were they whose souls the furies steeld, And curs'd: with hearts unknowing bow to yield. Thus unlamented pass the proud away, The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day ! So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow For other's good, or melt at other's woe.

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