THE NUNNERY: An ELEGY

Retirement's hour proclaims the tolling bell, In due observance of it's stern decree; Each sacred virgin seeks her lonely cell, And leaves the grate to solitude and me.

Now throws the western sun a fainter glare, And silence sooths the vestal world to rest, Save where some pale-ey'd novice (wrap'd in pray'r) Heaves a deep groan, and smites her guiltless breast.

Save that 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 these ancient walls with moss o'erspread, Where the relenting sinner learns to weep, Each in her narrow bed 'till midnight laid, The gentle daughters of devotion sleep.

Of wantonness the pleasure-breathing lay, Or laughter beck'ning from his rosy seat, Or vanity attir'd in colours gay, Shall ne'er allure them from their lonely state.

For them no more domestic joys return, Or tender father plies his wonted care, The nuptial torch for them must never burn, Or prattling infants charm the ling'ring year.

Oft do they weave the chaplets pictur'd gay, To deck their altars and the shrines around; How fervent do they chant the pious lay? How thro' the length'ning isle the notes resound?

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 cloister'd fair.

The glist'ning eye, the half-seen breast of snow, The coral lip, the bright vermilion bloom, Awaits alike th' inexorable foe; The paths of pleasure lead but to the tomb.

Nor you, ye vain, impute to these the fault, If flatt'ry to their fame no trophies raise, Where thro' the dome with grandeur's treasures fraught, The num'rous fopplings lift the voice of praise.

Can artful phrases or alluring words, Bid the pale cheek assume a second prime! Can ev'n Apollo's sweetly-sounding cords, Arrest the speedy steps of conq'ring time.

Perhaps in this drear mansion are confin'd, Some whose accomplish'd beauty can impart, Each soft emotion to the sternest mind, And wake to extacy the beating heart.

But pleasure flies them a forbidden guest, Deck'd with the flow'rs in youth's gay path that bloom, The clay-cold hand of penance chills their breast, And o'er the rays of fancy throws a gloom.

Full many a riv'let wand'ring to the main, Sequester'd pours it's solitary wave; Full many a flower is rooted from the plain, To waste it's sweetness on the desert grave.

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 rival 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 crimes restrain; Forbids thro' folly's labyrinth to rove, And yield to vanity the slacken'd rein:

To raise 'mid Hymen's joys domestic strife, Or seek that converse which they ought to shun; To loose the sacred ties of nuptial life, And give to many what they vow'd to one.

Far from the circle of the splendid throng, They tread obscurity's sequester'd vale; Their lonely hours unvaried creep along, Unfan'd by pleasure's ever shifting gale.

What tho' they're sprinkled with etherial dew! With blooming wreaths by hands of seraphs crown'd! Tho' heav'n's unfading splendors burst to view, And harps celestial to their ear resound.

Still grateful mem'ry paints the distant friend, Not ev'n the world to their remembrance dies; Their midnight orisons to heav'n ascend, To stay 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?

Their joy encircled hearth as they forsook, From some fond breast reluctant they withdrew: As from the deck they sent a farewell look, Fair Albion sunk for ever to their view.

For thee who mindful of th' encloister'd train, Dost in these lines their mournful tale relate; If by compassion guided to this fane, Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate.

'Haply some aged vestal may reply, 'Oft have we heard him 'ere Aurora's ray 'Had painted bright the portal of the sky, 'At yonder altar join the matin lay.

'Where hapless Eloisa sought repose, 'Oft at yon grave wou'd he her fate condole, 'And in his breast as scenes of grief arose, 'Sigh the kind requiem to her gentle soul.

'One morn I miss'd him at the hour divine, 'Along that Isle and in the sacristy: 'Another came, nor yet beside the shrine, 'Nor at the font, nor in the porch was he.

'The next we heard the bell of death intone, 'And in the fearful grave we saw him laid: 'Approach and read on this sepulchral stone, 'The lines engrav'd to sooth his hov'ring shade.