On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose.
George Meredith
What links are ours with orbs that are
This was the woman; what now of the man?
What may the woman labour to confess?
'Tis Christmas weather, and a country house
Full faith I have she holds that rarest gift
It is no vulgar nature I have wived.
WHEN by Zeus relenting the mandate was revoked,
Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive