THE NUNNERY.
[3]REtirement's Hour proclaims the tolling Bell,
Each ſacred Virgin follows its Decree;
With meek Submiſſion ſeeks her lonely Cell,
And leaves the Grate to Solitude and me.
Now ſhows the ſinking Sun a fainter glare
And Silence thro' the Convent reigns confeſt,
Save where ſome pale-ey'd Novice (wrap'd in Pray'r)
Heaves a deep groan: and ſmites her guiltleſs breaſt.
[4]Save where in artleſs melancholy Strains
Some Eloiſa whom ſoft Paſſion moves,
Abſorpt in Sorrow to the Night complains;
For ever bar'd the Abelard ſhe loves.
Within thoſe ancient Walls by Moſs o'erſpread,
Where the relenting Sinner learns to weep;
Each in her narrow Bed till Mid-night laid,
The gentle Daughters of Devotion ſleep.
No Stings of Conſcience goad their eaſy Breaſt,
No unrepented Crimes their Slumbers fright,
No mournful Dreams invade their peaceful Reſt,
Nor ſhrouded Spectres ſtalk afore their Sight!
Th' endearing Scenes of Life They all forego
Ev'n Hymen's Torch for Them muſt never blaze,
The Huſband's fond Embrace They ne'er ſhall know,
Nor view their Image in their Children's' Face.
[5]Oft did they ſteal the flow'ry Robe of May
To deck the Altar and the Shrines around:
How fervent did They chant the pious Lay,
While the deep Organ ſwell'd the ſacred Sound?
Let not the gay Coquette with Jeſt profane,
Mock their veil'd Life and Deſtiny ſevere:
Nor worldly Beauty with a Sneer diſdain
The humble Duties of the Cloyſter'd Fair.
The gliſt'ning Eye: The half-ſeen Breaſt of Snow,
The coral Lip, the clear vermilion Bloom
Awaits alike th' inexorable Foe,
The Paths of Pleaſure lead but to the Tomb.
Forgive, Ye Fair, whom Britain's Sons admire,
If This her meaneſt Bard incur your Blame,
While He devotes not to your Praiſe the Lyre,
But to the Convent dedicates his Theme.
[6]Can Theſe partake the ſprightly-moving Dance?
Or in the Garb of Luxury appear?
Can Theſe e'er pierce the Lover with a Glance?
Or grace the Tragic Scene with Pity's Tear?
Perhaps in this drear Manſion are confin'd
Some whoſe accompliſh'd Beauty cou'd impart
The ſoft Deſire to the ſevereſt Mind,
And wake to Extacy the throbbing Heart.
But ſplendid Life in each Allurement dreſt
Attracts Them not, tho' fluſh'd with youthful Bloom:
Stern Pennance chills the Ardour of their Breaſt,
And buries their Ambition in this Gloom.
Full many a Riv'let ſteals its gentle Way
Unheard, untaſted, by the thirſty Swain,
Full many a Philomel attunes her Lay,
And pours her plaintive Melody in vain.
[7]Some veil'd Eliza (like the clouded Sun)
May here reſide inglorious and unknown;
Some, like Auguſta, might have rear'd a Son
To bleſs a Nation and adorn a Throne.
From Flatt'ry's Lip to drink the Sweets of Praiſe,
In Wit and Charms with other Belles to vie,
In Circles to attract the partial Gaze
And view Their Beauty in th' Admirer's Eye
Their Lot forbids: nor does alone remove
The Thirſt of Praiſe, but e'en their Vices chains,
Forbids thro' Folly's Labyrinth to rove,
And yield to Pleaſure the unheeded reins:
To raiſe mid Hymen's Joys domeſtic Strife,
Or ſeek that Converſe which They ought to ſhun,
To break the ſacred Ties of married Life
And give to many what they vow'd to one.
[8]Far from the Buſtle of the ſplendid Throng
They tread Obſcurity's ſequeſter'd Vale,
Where the white Hours glide ſilently along
Smooth as the Stream, when ſleeps the breezy Gale.
Yet tho' they're ſprinkled with ethereal Dew?
With blooming Wreaths by Hands of Seraphs crown'd?
Tho' Heav'n's eternal Splendors burſt to View?
And Harps celeſtial to their Ear reſound?
Still grateful Mem'ry paints the abſent Friend,
Not ev'n the World to their Remembrance dies:
Their Mid-night Oriſons to Heav'n aſcend
To ſtop the Bolt deſcending from the Skies.
For who entranc'd, in Viſions from above
The Thought of Kindred razes from the Mind?
Feels in the Soul no warm returning Love
For ſome endear'd Companion left behind?
[9]From Friendſhip's Breaſt reluctant they withdrew,
And with a Sigh forſook their native Air:
To their fond Parents when they bad Adieu
Guſh'd from their Eye the tender filial Tear.
For Thee, who mindful of th' encloyſter'd Fair
Doſt in theſe Lines their artleſs Tale relate,
If Chance in diſtant Time's revolving Year
Some kindred Spirit ſhall enquire thy Fate,
Haply ſome aged Veſtal may reply,
"Oft have we ſeen Him 'ere Aurora's Ray
"Had faintly ting'd with red the op'ning Sky,
"Haſten to Church, and join the Matin Lay.
"There at the Tomb where Eloiſa lies,
"He'd read th' Inſcription: and her Fate condole,
"Then in his Breaſt, as Scenes of Grief ariſe,
"Sigh the kind Requiem to her gentle Soul.
[10]"Againſt yon Pillar careleſs now He'd lean,
"Smiling at what his wayward Fancy moves:
"Now drooping, wan, and penſive, wou'd be ſeen
"As one abandon'd by the Fair He loves.
"One Morn I miſs'd Him in the aweful Dome
"Along the Iſle, and in the Sacriſty:
"Another came, nor yet beſide the Tomb,
"Nor at the Font, nor in the Porch was He.
"The next we heard, which did our Wonder move,
"He was departed to return no more,
"Yet leſt the ſudden Change we ſhou'd reprove,
"Theſe Lines He ſent us from Britannia's Shore.
"What Time in Tranſport loſt the Naïad Throng,
"Firſt catch'd their Akenſide's enchanting Lay,
"And raptur'd Fancy liſten'd to the Song
"Of laurel'd Whitehead, and ſweet-plaintive Gray."
The LETTER.
[11]A Veſtal Fair (Her Name I may'nt unfold)
Has planted in my Breaſt the pleaſing Dart;
Who by relentleſs Vows, if not controll'd,
Wou'd own, perchance, a Sympathy of Heart:
The growing Paſſion impotent to quell,
Severe Diſcretion urg'd me to retreat;
Now at my native rural Home I dwell,
Where Contemplation keeps her lonely Seat.
Seek not to draw me from this ſtill Abode,
Where the kind Muſes to my Aid repair,
And when the Thoughts of hapleſs Love corrode,
Check the deep Sigh, and wipe the trickling Tear.
FINIS.