Page:The Works of Alexander Pope (1717).djvu/469

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MISCELLANIES.
433
"Come, sister, come!" (it said, or seem'd to say)"Thy place is here, sad sister, come away!Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd,Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid:But all is calm in this eternal sleep;Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep,Ev'n superstition loses ev'ry fear:For God, not man, absolves our frailties here."
I come, I come! prepare your roseate bow'rs,Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs.Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go,Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow:Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay,And smooth my passage to the realms of day;See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul!Ah no — in sacred vestments may'st thou stand,The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,Present the cross before my lifted eye,Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
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