Eloisa to Abelard

When at the close of each sad sorrowing day

Fancy restores what Vengeance snatch'd away,

Then Conscience sleeps, and leaving Nature free,

All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee.

O curs'd dear horrors of all-conscious Night!

How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!

Provoking daemons all restraint remove,

And stir within me ev'ry source of love,

I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,

And round thy phantoms glue my clasping arms.

I wake——no more I hear, no more I view,

The phantom flies me as unkind as you.

I call aloud; it hears not what I say;

I stretch my empty arms; it glides away.

To dream once more I close my willing eyes;

Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise!

Alas no more!——Methinks we wand'ring go,

Thro' dreary waftes, and weep each other's woe

Where round some moulding tow'r pale ivy creeps,

And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.

Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies:

Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise.

I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find

And wake to all the griefs I left behind.