The brother of Love, shall end our Sorrow.
AVERLAINE: The Shadow is strong with the strength of Fate,
And, slain, would rise from the grave to-morrow.
ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow for ever between!
2.
AVERLAINE: Yea, we must part, and tear with ruthless hands
The golden web wherein, too late, Love strove
To weave us joy and bind us heart to heart.
ARKELD: Yea, we must part, and strew on desert-sands