Stronger it is than death, and deeper far
Than the blue depths of the untravelled sea.
Love fills me utterly, and is my blood;
So that, belovéd, hadst thou bade me drink
Of some death-working potion Fredegonde
Had learned from Lapland sorcerers to brew,
Thus would I drink it!’ and I drained the cup,
Then spoke once more: ‘Yea, even if one came
To warn me of the snare which she had laid,
And that thy heart consented to the deed,