The hallowed taper trembling in thy hand, Present the cross before my lifted eye, Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.[710] Ah then, thy once-loved Eloisa see! It will be then no crime to gaze on me. 330 See from my cheek the transient roses fly![711] See the last sparkle languish in my eye! 'Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er; And ev'n my Abelard be loved no more. Oh death all-eloquent! you only prove 335 What dust we doat on, when 'tis man we love.[712] Then too, when fate shall thy fair fame destroy, (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy)[713] In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drowned, Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round, 340 From op'ning skies may streaming glories shine, And saints embrace thee with a love like mine. May one kind grave unite each hapless name,[714] And graft my love immortal on thy fame! Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er, 345 When this rebellious heart shall beat no more; If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads, And drink the falling tears each other sheds;[715] 350 Then sadly say, with mutual pity moved, "Oh may we never love as these have loved!" From the full choir[716] when loud hosannas rise, And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice,[717] Amid that scene if some relenting eye 355 Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie, Devotion's self shall steal a thought from heav'n, One human tear shall drop, and be forgiv'n. And sure if fate some future bard shall join In sad similitude of griefs to mine, 360 Condemned whole years in absence to deplore, And image charms he must behold no more; Such if there be, who loves so long, so well; Let him our sad, our tender story tell; The well-sung woes will sooth my pensive ghost;[718] 365 He best can paint them who shall feel them most.[719] AN ESSAY ON MAN, IN FOUR EPISTLES TO HENRY ST. JOHN, LORD BOLINGBROKE. WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1732. * * * * * AN ESSAY ON MAN.--ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND. Part I. London: Printed for J. WILFORD, at the Three Flower-de-luces, behind the Chapter-house, St. Paul's. Price one shilling. Folio.