Sivut kuvina
PDF
ePub

Where round fome mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies; 245
Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arife.
I shriek, stari up, the fame fad profpect find,
And wake to all the griefs I left behind.

255

For thee the fates, feverely kind, ordain A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain; 250 Thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repose; No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows. Still as the fea, ere winds were taught to blow, Or moving spirit bade the waters flow; Soft as the slumbers of a faint forgiv'n, And mild as op'ning gleams of promis'd heav'n. Come, Abelard! for what haft thou to dread? The torch of Venus burns not for the dead. Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves; Ev'n thou art cold-yet Eloisa loves. Ah hopeless, lafting flames; like those that burn To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn. What scenes appear where'er I turn my view?

260

The dear Ideas, where I fly, pursue,
Rife in the grove, before the altar rife,
Stain all my foul, and wanton in my eyes.

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

NOTES.

VER. 261. Ah hopeless, &c.] The same image used in Verses to the memory of an unfortunate Lady.

[blocks in formation]

I waste the Matin lamp in fighs for thee,
Thy image steals between my God and me,
Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear,
With ev'ry bead I drop too foft a tear.
When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll,
And fwelling organs lift the rifing foul,
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,
Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my fight:
In feas of flame my plunging foul is drown'd,
While Altars blaze, and Angels tremble round.

While proftrate 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 foul:
Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art!
Oppose thyself to heav'n; difpute my heart:

NOTES,

270

275

280

Come,

VER. 274. Priests, tapers, temples, Equal to any part of Sappho's Ode, so celebrated by Longinus for an affemblage of striking circumstances.

WARTON.

VER. 275. In seas of flame, &c.] How finely does this glowing imagery introduce the tranfition,

While proftrate here in humble grief I lie,
Kind, virtuous drops, &c.

PARALLEL PASSAGES.

VER. 274. Priests, tapers, &c.]

"Priefts, tapers, temples, swam before my fight,

Altars, and victims

Smith's Phædra and Hippalitus.

Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes
Blot out each bright Idea of the skies;

Take back that grace, those forrows, and those tears;
Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs; 286
Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode;
Affist the fiends, and tear me from my God!
No, fly me, fly me, far as Pole from Pole;
Rife Alps between us! and whole oceans roll! 290
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 refign;

Forget, renounce me, hate whateʼer was mine.
Fair eyes, and tempting looks, (which yet I view!) 295
Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!
Oh Grace ferene! oh virtue heav'nly fair!
Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!
Fresh-blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky!

And Faith, our early immortality!
Enter, each mild, each amicable guest;
Receive, and wrap me, in eternal rest!
See in her cell fad Eloïfa spread,
Propt on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead.

NOTES.

300

In

VER. 298. Low-thoughted care!] An epithet from Milton's

Comus.

WARTON.

VER. 303. See in her cell] It certainly should be near, not in her cell. The doors of all cells open into the common cloifter, where are often many tombs. Description of Paraclete.

VER. 304. Propt on fome tomb,] The image here, though beautiful, is not correct. "The cell of a Nun," which is extremely

2

In each low wind methinks a Spirit, calls,
And more than Echoes talk along the walls.

Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around,

305

From yonder shrine I heard a hollow found.

66

Come, fister, come! (it faid, or feem'd to say)

310

" Thy place is here, sad fifter, come away;
"Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd,
" Love's victim then, tho' now a fainted maid :
"But all is calm in this eternal sleep;

" Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep, " Ev'n superstition loses every fear : " For God, not man, abfolves 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

315

Thou, Abelard! the last fad office pay,
And fmooth my passage to the realms of day :
See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying foul!
Ah no-in facred vestments may'st thou stand, 325
The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,

NOTES.

Present

tremely narrow, could not possibly admit of any tomb to lean upon; and though the door might have opened into the cloister, Paraclete had been too recently founded for monuments of the dead to be expected there. STEVENS.

VER. 308. a hollow found] Though Virgil evidently gave the hint: (Hinc exaudiri voces & verba vocantis visa viri, 1. 4. p. 460.;) yet this call of some sister, that had been involved in a fimilar distress, appears more folemn and interesting. WARTON.

330

335

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 tranfient roses fly!
See the last sparkle languish in my eye!
'Till every motion, pulse, and breath be o'er;
And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more.
Oh Death all-eloquent! you only prove
What duft we doat 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 extatic may thy pangs be drown'd,
Bright clouds defcend, 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!

VER.

339.]

NOTES.

Then,

These circumstances are conformable to the no

tions of myftic devotion. The death of St Jerome is finely and forcibly painted by Dominichino, with fuch attendant particulars.

VER.343.

May

WARTON.

one kind grave] This wish was fulfilled The body of Abelard, who died twenty years before Eloifa, was sent to Eloifa, who interred it in the monaftery of the Paraclete; and it was accompanied with a very extraordinary form of absolution, from the famous Peter de Clugny: "Ego Petrus Cluniacenfis ab. bas, qui Petrum Abelardum in monachum Cluniacenfem recepi, & corpus ejus furtim delatum Heloiffæ Abbatiffæ & monialibus Paracleti conceffi, auctoritate omnipotentis Dei, & omnium sanctorum, absolvo eum, pro officio, ab omnibus peccatis fuis." (Epift.

E 3

Abæl.

« EdellinenJatka »