Gargoyles

VIII. I did not sleep at all: but she:— O face of deathless agony! O torture of hell’s worm, to wrest From peace that miserable breast! Me, me she strikes in mid-delight Staggered and shattered at the sight, The moment that she slept. I laughed Thereat: the bowl I idly quaffed Was nectar: she amused me, so. You see, my friend, I did not know. I also slept at morn. Then, then, A low voice whispered in the den: ‘* Lucky young fellow! Brave and clever! This sort of thing goes on for ever,” IX, On earth I dreaded impotence, Age, death. You see, I had no sense. Best be an old man ere you die; They wish insensibility, So are their pains the duller. Hell Is managed infinitely well 106