Than fair Miranda's on the magic isle.
XIX.
I urged my suit. "My bond!" I did exclaim,
"My pink and white, the hand I love to press,
The golden hair that crowns her loveliness;
And all the beauties which I cannot name;
All, all are mine, and I will have the same,
Though she should hate me for my love's excess."
XX.
I knew myself. I knew the withering fate