Chapter XXIX: The Confession

I

I am initiate,--long disciplined In delicate austerities of art: The clear compulsions of the sovran mind Constrain the dreamy panics of my heart. Plato and Dante, Petrarch, Lancelot, Revealed me very Love, flame-clad, august. Also I strove to be as we are not, Loyal, and honourable, and even just. My webs of life in reveries were dyed As veils in vats of purple: so there stole Serene and sumptuous and mysterious pride Through the imperial vesture of my soul.-- And lo! like any servile fool I crave The dark strange rapture of the stricken slave.