Torn from the world, within dark cells immur'd,
By angels guarded, and by vows secur'd,
To all that once awoke thy fondness dead,
And hope, pale sorrow's last sad refuge, fled;
Why wilt thou weep, and sigh, and melt in vain,
Brood o'er false joys, and hug th'ideal chain?
Say, canst thou wish, that, madly wild to fly
From yon bright portal opening in the sky,
Thy Abelard should bid his God adieu,
Pant at thy feet, and taste thy charms anew?
Ye heavens! if to this tender bosom woo'd,
Thy mere idea harrows up my blood;
If one faint glimpse of Eloise can move
The fiercest, wildest agonies of love;
What shall I be, when, dazzling as the light,
Thy whole effulgence flows upon my sight?
Look on thyself, consider who thou art,
And learn to be an abbess in thy heart;
See, while devotion's ever-melting strain
Pours the loud organ thro' the trembling fane,
Yon pious maids each earthly wish disown,
Kiss the dread cross, and croud upon the throne:
O let thy soul the sacred charge attend,
Their warmths inspirit, and their virtues mend;
Teach every breast from every hymn to steal
The seraph's meekness, and the seraph's zeal;
To rise to rapture, to dissolve away
In dreams of heaven, and lead thyself the way,
Till all the glories of the blest abode
Blaze on the scene, and every thought is God!
While thus thy exemplary cares prevail,
And make each vestal spotless as her veil,
Th' eternal spirit o'er thy cell shall move
In the soft image of the mystic dove;
The long-lost gleams of heavenly comfort bring
Peace in his smile, and healing on his wing;
At once remove affliction from thy breast,
Melt o'er thy soul, and hush her pangs to rest.