The Doubtful Beam Long Nods From Side

What Conscience Dictates To Be Done, Or Warns Me Not To Do; This Teach Me More Than Hell To Shun, That More Than Heav'n Pursue.

In Vain Sedate Reflections We Would Make When Half Our Knowledge We Must Snatch, Not Take.

An Excuse Is Worse And More Terrible Than A Lie; For An Excuse Is A Lie Guarded.

Consult The Genius Of The Place, That Paints As You Plant, And As You Work.

Dear Fatal Name! Rest Ever Unreveal'd, Nor Pass These Lips In Holy Silence Seal'd. Hide It, My Heart, Within That Close Disguise, Where Mixed With Gods, His Lov'd Idea Lies: O Write It Not, My Hand - The Name Appears Already Written - Wash It Out, My Tears! In Vain Lost Eloisa Weeps And Prays, Her Heart Still Dictates, And Her Hand Obeyes.