Eloisa to Abelard

There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame.

There died the best of passions, love and same.

Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join

Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine.

Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away;

And is my Abelard less kind than they?

Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare,

Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;

No happier talk these faded eyes pursue;

To read and weep is all they now can do.

Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief;

Ah, more than share it! give me all thy grief.

Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid,

Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid;

They live they speak, they breathe what love inspires,

Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires,

The virgin's wish without her fears impart,

Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart,

Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,

And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.