Eloisa to Abelard

When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll,

And swelling organs lift the rising soul,

One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,

Priests, tapers, temples; swim before my sight:

In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd,

While altars blaze, and angels tremble round.

While prostrate here in humble grief I lye

Kind, virtuous drops, just gathering in my eye,

While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll,

And dawning grace is opening on my soul:

Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art!

Oppose thyself to Heav'n; dispute my heart;

Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes

Blot out each bright idea of the skies;

Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those tears;

Take back my fruitless penitence and prayers;

Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode;

Assist the fiend, and tear me from my God!