Pour forth my woes for ever with thyself
On earth, to which I will restore, at once,
This hateful compound of her atoms, and60
Resolve back to her elements, and take
The shape of any reptile save myself,
And make a world for myriads of new worms!
This knife! now let me prove if it will sever
This withered slip of Nature's nightshade—my
Vile form—from the creation, as it hath
The green bough from the forest.