Thus kings, by grafping more than they could hold,
First made their subjects, by oppreffion, bold:
And popular sway, by forcing kings to give
More than was fit for fubjects to receive,
Ran to the fame extremes; and one excess
Made both, by striving to be greater, lefs.
When a calm river, rais'd with fudden rains,
Or fnows diffolv'd, o'erflows th' adjoining plains,
The hufbandmen with high-rais'd banks fecure
Their greedy hopes, and this he can endure.
But if with bays and dams they strive to force
His channel to a new, or narrow, courfe ;
No longer, then, within his banks he dwells,
First to a torrent, then a deluge, fwells:
Stronger and fiercer by restraint he roars,
And knows no bound, but makes his pow'r his shores.
The harmony of numbers in this
poem is very fine. It is rather drawn out to too tedious a length, altho' the paffions vary with great judgement. It may be confidered as fuperior to any thing in the epistolary way; and the many translations which have been made of it into the modern languages, are, in fome meafure, a proof of
N these 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 Eloïfa yet must kiss the name.
Dear, fatal name! reft ever unreveal'd,
Nor pafs 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:
O write it not, my hand-the name appears
Already written-wash it out, my tears!
In vain loft Eloïfa 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 fasts, its stubborn 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!
Still breath'd in fighs, still usher'd with a tear.
I tremble, too, where-e'er my own I find,
Some dire misfortune follows clofe 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 best 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 less kind than they?
Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare,
Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;
No happier task these faded eyes pursue ;
To read and weep is all they now can do.
Then share thy pain, allow that fad relief;
Ah, more than share it, give me all thy grief.
Heav'n first taught letters for fome wretch's aid,
Some banish'd lover, or fome captive maid;
They live, they speak, they breathe what love infpires,
Warm from the foul, and faithful to its fires,
The virgin's wish without her fears impart,
Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart,
Speed the foft intercourse 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;
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 celestial day.
Guiltless I gaz'd; Heav'n listen'd while you fung;
And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
From lips like those what precept fail'd to move?
Too foon they taught me 'twas no fin to love :
Back thro' the paths of pleafing sense I ran,
Nor wish'd an Angel, whom I lov'd a Man.
Dim and remote the joys of faints I see;
Nor envy them that Heav'n I lofe for thee.
How oft, when prefs'd to marriage, have I faid,
Curfe on all laws but thofe which love has made!
Love, free as air, at fight of human ties,
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame,
Auguft her deed, and facred be her fame;
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