To feed my soul with his foretasted death....”
And again:
“Oh! I feel dancing motions in my feet
And laughter moving merrily at my lips,
Only to think him dead, or hearsed, or hanged—That
were the better. I could dance down his life.
Sing my steps through, treading on his dead neck,
For love of his dead body and cast-out soul.”
Verily, a real Highland fling! And lest there should be any possible doubt as to the meaning of “cast-out soul,” this gentle lady pursues it to its place, and gloats over its eternal torments in this Christian fashion:
“He shall talk of me to the worm of hell,