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For e’en to Heloise what did it bring? 
Worship most true from him her soul adored, 
The outward triumph, and the secret sting, 
As low to heaven her spirit-grief she poured, 
Lamenting that his image still would start, 
Between the throne of mercy and her heart. 
And he , the genius-gifted, the refined, 
Whose soul-inspiring eloquence could move 
The coldest critic, warm the sternest mind, — 
Oh! was he happy in this deep, strong love ? 
Alas! alas! the records that remain 
Whisper of Passion, and a proud name’s stain. 
But what their sufferings were, or what their 
crime, 
Is asked by none who linger at their tomb; 
