University of Virginia Library

As in my Cell, low prostrate on the Ground
I mourn'd my Crimes, thy Letter entrance found.
Too soon my Soul the well known Name confess'd,
My beating Heart sprung fiercely in my Breast:
Through my whole Frame a guilty Transport glow'd,
And from my Eyes the Torrents streaming flow'd.
Oh! Heloisa, art thou still the same,
Dost thou still nourish this destructive Flame?
Have not the gentle Rules of Peace and Heaven,
From thy soft Soul, this fatal Passion driven?
Alas! I thought you disengag'd, and free,
And can you still, still sigh and weep for me?
What pow'rful Deity, what hallow'd Shrine,
Can save me from a Love, a Faith like thine?
Where shall I fly, when not this awful Cave,
Whose rugged Foot the surging Billows lave,
Me from the Horrors of thy Love can save?
When my dread Vows in vain their Force oppose,
Listed 'gainst Love how vain alas are Vows!
In fruitless Penitence I wear away
Each tedious Night, and sad revolving Day,
I fast, I pray, and with deceitful Art
Veil thy dear Image in my tortur'd Heart.
My tortur'd Heart conflicting Passions move,
I hope, despair, repent, yet still I love.
A thousand jarring Thoughts my Bosom tear
For thou (not God) oh Heloise! art there.
To the false World's deluding Pleasures dead,
No longer by its wand'ring Fires misled,
In learn'd Disputes harsh Precepts I infuse,
And give the Counsel I want Pow'r to use.
The rigid Maxims of the Grave and Wise,
Have quench'd each milder Sparkle of my Eyes.
Each lovely Feature of this once lov'd Face,
By Grief revers'd assumes a sterner Grace.
Oh Heloisa! should the Fates once more
Indulgent to my View thy Charms restore,
How from my Arms would'st thou with Horror start,
To miss the Form familiar to thy Heart?
Nought could thy quick, thy piercing Judgment see,
To speak me Abelard, but Love of thee.
Lean Abstinence, pale Grief, and hagged Care
The dire Attendants of forlorn Despair,
Have Abelard the gay, the young, remov'd,
And in the Hermit sunk the Man you lov'd.
Wrapt in the Gloom, these holy Mountains shed,
The thorny Paths of Penitence I tread,
Lost to the World, from all its Int'rests free,
And torn from all my Soul, held dear in thee.
Ambition with its Train of Frailties gone
All Love, all Form forgot, but thine alone.
Amidst the Blaze of Day, the Gloom of Night,
My Heloisa rises to my Sight.
Veil'd as in Paraclet's secluded Tow'rs
The wretched Mourner counts the lagging Hours,
I hear her Sighs, see the swift falling Tears,
Weep all her Griefs, and pant with all her Cares.
Oh Vows! oh Convent! your stern Face impart
And frown the melting Phantom from my Heart.
Let other Sighs a worthier Sorrow show,
Let other Tears for Sins repentant flow.
Low to the Earth, my guilty Eyes I roul
And humble to the Dust my heaving Soul.
Forgiving Powers, your gracious Call I meet,
Who first impow'r'd this Rebel Heart to beat,
Who thro' this trembling, this offending Frame,
For nobler Ends infus'd Life's active Flame:
Oh change the Temper of this labouring Breast,
And form anew each beating Pulse to Rest.
Let springing Grace, fair Faith and Hope remove
The fatal Traces of destructive Love.
Destructive Love from his warm Mansion tear,
And leave no Tracks of Heloisa there.
Are these the Wishes of my inmost Soul?
Would I its softest tend'rest Sense controul?
Would I this touch'd, this glowing Heart refine
To the cold Substance of that Marble Shrine?
Transform'd like these pale Swarms that round me move,
O! blest Insensibles that know not Love!
Ah! rather let me keep this hapless Flame:
Adieu false Honours, unavailing Fame:
Not your harsh Rules, but tender Love supplies
The Streams that gush from my despairing Eyes.
I feel the Traitor melt about my Heart,
And through my Veins the treach'rous Infl'ence dart.
Inspire me, Heav'n, assist me, Grace divine,
Aid me, you Saints, that know not Crimes like mine,
You who in Earth severe, all Griefs did prove,
All but the tort'ring Pains of hopeless Love.
A holier Rage in your pure Bosoms dwelt;
Nor can you pity what you never felt.
A sympathizing Grief alone can cure;
The Hand that heals, must feel what I endure.
Thou, Heloise, alone must give me Ease,
And bid my lab'ring Soul subside to Peace.
Restore me to my long lost Heav'n of rest,
And take thyself from my reluctant Breast.
If Crimes like mine, could an Allay receive,
That blest Allay, thy wond'rous Charms might give
That Form, which first to Love my Heart inclin'd
Still wanders in my lost, my guilty Mind.
I saw thee as the new-blown Blossom fair
Sprightly as light, more soft than Summer's Air.
Bright as their Beams, thy Eyes a Mind disclose,
While on thy Lips, gay blush'd the fragrant Rose,
While Youth, and Love, in each dear Feature shone,
Press'd by my Fate, I gaz'd and was undone.
There fell the gen'rous Fire whose vig'rous Flame,
Enlarg'd my Soul, and led me on to Fame.
Nor Fame, nor Wealth, my softned Heart could move
Dully insensible to all but Love,
Snatch'd from myself my Learning tasteless grew,
Vain my Philosophy, oppos'd to you,
A Train of Woes succeed, nor shou'd we mourn
The Hours, which cannot, ought not to return!
As once to Love I sway'd your guilty Mind,
Too fond, alas! too fatally inclin'd;
To Virtue now, let me your Breast inspire,
And fan with Zeal divine the Heav'nly Fire.
Teach you to injur'd Heav'n, all chang'd, to turn,
And bid your Soul with sacred Raptures burn.
Oh! that my own Example might impart
This noble Warmth to your soft trembling Heart,
That mine with pious undissembled Care,
Could aid the latent Virtue struggling there:
Alas! I rave, nor Grace, nor Zeal divine,
Burns in a Heart oppress'd with Crimes like mine.
Too sure I find, while I the Torture prove
Of feeble Piety, conflicting Love.
On black Despair, my forc'd Devotion's built,
Absence for me has sharper Pangs than Guilt.
Yet, yet, my Heloise, thy Charms I see,
Yet my Sighs breath, my Tears are shed for thee.
Each weak Resistance stronger knits my Chain,
I sigh, weep, love, despair, repent in vain.
Haste, Heloisa, haste, thy Lover free,
Amidst thy warmer Pray'rs—O! think on me.
Wing with your rising Zeal my grov'ling Mind,
And let me mine, from your Repentance find.
Ah labour, strive, your Love, yourself controul,
The change will sure affect my kindred Soul.
In Concert blest, our purer Sighs shall live,
And Heav'n assisting, shall our Crimes forgive:
But if unhappy, wretched, lost in vain,
Faintly th' unequal Combat you sustain,
If not to Heav'n you feel your Bosom rise,
Nor Tears refin'd, fall contrite from your Eyes;
If still your Heart its wonted Passions move,
If still, to speak all Pains in one, you love;
Deaf to the weak Essays of living Breath,
Attend the strongest Eloquence of Death.
When the kind Pow'r this captive Soul shall free,
Which only then shall cease to doat on thee;
When gently sunk to my eternal Sleep,
The Paraclete my peaceful Urn shall keep,
Then Heloisa, then your Lover view,
See his quench'd Eyes no longer gaze on you;
From their dread Orbs their tender Utt'rance flown,
Which first to thine my Heart's soft Tale made known.
This Breast no more (at length to Ease consign'd)
Pants like the waving Aspin in the Wind.
See all my wild tumultuous Passion o'er,
And thou (amazing change!) belov'd no more.
Behold the destin'd End of human Love,
But let the Sight alone, your Zeal improve:
Let then your conscious Soul, to Sorrow mov'd,
Recall how much, how tenderly I lov'd.
With pious Care your fruitless Grief restrain,
Nor let a Tear your sacred Veil prophane;
Nor e'en a Sigh on my cold Urn bestow,
But let your Breast with new-born Raptures glow,
Let Love divine frail Mortal Love dethrone,
And to your Mind immortal Joys make known.
Let Heav'n relenting strike your ravish'd View
And still the bright, the blest Pursuit renew:
So with your Crimes shall your Misfortunes cease,
And your wreck'd Soul be calmly hush'd to Peace.