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Both battles main, with ruinous affault,
And unextinguishable rage. All heaven
Refounded; and, had earth been then, all earth
Had, to her center, fhook.

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ANY, by numbers, judge a poet's fong; And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong. In the bright mufe, tho' thoufand charms confpire, Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire ; Who haunt Parnaffus, but to please their ear, Not mend their minds; as fome to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the mufic there. Thefe equal fyllables alone require, Tho' of the ear the open vowels tire; While expletives their feeble aid do join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line While they ring round the fame unvary'd chimes, With fure returns of ftill expected rhymes.. Where-e'er you find "the cooling western breeze," In the next line, it "whifpers thro' the trees:" If cryftal ftreams" with pleafing murmurs creep," The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with " Then, at the laft and only couplet fraught With fome unmeaning thing they call a thought,


fleep :"

A needlefs Alexandrine ends the song,

That, like a wounded fnake, drags its flow length along.

LEAVE fuch to tune their own dull rhymes, and know What's roundly fmooth, or languishingly flow;


And praife the eafy vigour of a line,
Where Denham's ftrength, and Waller's sweetness join.

TRUE ease, in writing, comes from art, not chance; As those move easiest, who have learn'd to dance. Tis not enough, no harfhnefs gives offence; The found muft feem an echo to the fenfe. Soft is the ftrain, when zephyr gently blows, And the finooth stream, in smoother numbers flows: But when loud furges lash the founding shore, The hoarfe rough verfe fhould like the torrent roar. When Ajax ftrives fome rock's vaft weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move flow: Not fo, when swift Camilla fcours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main. HEAR, how Timotheus' vary'd lays surprise, And bid alternate paffions fall and rife While, at each change, the fon of Libyan Jove, Now, burns with glory; and, then, melts with love: Now, his fierce eyes, with sparling fury glow; Now, fighs fteal out, and tears begin to flow : Perfians and Greeks like turns of nature found; And the world's victor-stood subdu'd by Sound!



X I.



Y name is Norval. On the Grampian hills
My father feeds his flocks; a frugal fwain,
Whofe conftant cares were to increase his ftore,
And keep his only fon, myself, at home.
For I had heard of battles, and I long'd


To follow to the field fome warlike lord;


And heav'n foon granted, what my fire deny'd.
This moon which rofe, last night, round as my shield,
Had not yet fill'd her horns, when by her light,
A band of fierce barbarians, from the hills,
Rush'd, like a torrent, down upon the vale,
Sweeping our flocks and herds. The fhepherds fled
For fafety and for fuccour. I, alone,
With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows,
Hover'd about the enemy, and mark'd
The road he took then, hafted to my friends;
Whom, with a troop of fifty chofen inen,
I met advancing. The purfuit I led,
'Till we o'ertook the spoil encumber'd foe.
We fought and conquer'd. Ere a fword was drawn,
An arrow, from my bow, had pierc'd their chief;
Who wore, that day, the arms which now I wear.
Returning home in triumph, I difdain'd
The fhepherd's flothful life: and, having heard,
That our good king had summon'd his bold peers,
To lead their warriors to the Carron fide,
I left my father's houfe, and took with me
A chofen fervant to conduct my steps--
Yon trembling coward who forfook his master.
Journeying with this intent, I pafs'd these towers;
And, heaven-directed, came, this day, to do
The happy deed, that gilds my humble name.




N thefe deep folitudes and awful cells,
Where heavenly-penfive contemplation dwells,
And ever-mufing melancholy reigns,
What means this tumult in a veftal's veins ?
Why rove my thoughts beyond this laft retreat?
Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?
Yet, yet I love -From Abelard it came,
And Eloifa, yet, must kifs the name.

DEAR fatal name! reft ever unreveal'd;
Nor pafs thefe lips, in holy filence feal'd.
Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise,
Where, mixt 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 Eloifa weeps and prays;
Her heart ftill dictates, and her hand obeys.

RELENTLESS walls! whofe darksome 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; Though cold like you, unmov'd and filent grown, I have not yet forgot myself to stone. All is not Heaven's, while Abelard has part; Still rebel Nature holds out half my heart: Nor prayers, nor fafts, its ftubborn pulse restrain; Nor tears, for ages taught to flow in vain.


METHINKS, from yonder fhrine, a fpirit calls, And more than echoes talk along the walls. "Come,.fifter, come!" (it fays, or feems to fay) Thy place is here, fad fifter, come away! "Once, like thyfelf, 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:
"Even fuperftition lofes every fear;

"For God, not man, abfolves our frailties here."
I come, I come! prepare your roseate bowers,
Celeftial palms, and ever-blooming flowers;
Thither, where finners may have reft, I go,
Where flames refin'd in breafts feraphic glow.
Thou, Abelard! the laft fad office pay,
And smooth my paffage to the realms of day:
Ah! then, thy once-lov'd Eloifa fee ;
It will be, then, no crime to gaze on me:
See, from my cheek, the tranfient rofes fly;
See the last sparkle languish in my eye;
Till every motion, pulfe, and breath be o'er,
And ev'n my Abelard-be lov'd no more.






HEY ended parle; and both address'd for fight
Unfpeakable for, who, tho' with the tongue
Of angels, can relate, or to what things
Liken on earth confpicuous, that may lift
Human imagination to fuch height


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