Page:The Works of Alexander Pope (1717).djvu/468

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MISCELLANIES.
 No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole;Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll!Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me,Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee.Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign;Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!)Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!Oh Grace serene! oh virtue heav'nly fair!Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!Fresh blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky!And faith, our early immortality!Enter, each mild, each amicable guest;Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest! See in her cell sad Eloisa spread,Propp'd on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead.In each low wind methinks a spirit calls,And more than echoes talk along the walls.Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around,From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound.

Come

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