The stain of sin, then with a glow at heart
I’ll meet him, though no more than on the threshold.
Yea, I will stoop and make my hands a cup
To draw for him from Lethe; but myself
Shall never taste the beatific drink.
But you—I warn you—make an end!
Gyges.
So be it.
Yet this I swear to thee, beloved Shade,
I shall away as soon as e’er ’tis done.