And glamored stateliness of Arthur’s Queen.
Yea would I now forego all I hold dear
In this life and the next, if such there be,
My chance of Heaven thrust to darkest Hell,
One hour like Launcelot to know her love.
Hell! Hell! I laugh at Hell, such flames I burn
Would scorch the northern ice-seas in their beds.
So deep a hell I hold me in my thoughts
Of madness for her love.—Yea I am turned
A very subtle Satan that will plot