What manner of an angel be my love, who standeth here? Such beauty did I never see in any Earthly year. What mighty magic has she cast to make me love her so, that if I should for aeons last, still with her I shall go? What wonders lay beneath her breast and weigh my heart like stones? These eyes of mine did never rest on any sweeter bones. What better end have I to meet than ‘fore my Lady break me to lift me in her embrace sweet and to her darkness take me?