This time she set her will against my will;
Swore that she would not come: in my despair
I half believed her an enchantress fair
Cruel as hell and dowered with subtle skill
To strain my life out with her love, and kill
My soul with misery: suddenly a rare
Swift smile set shimmering all the ambient air,
And then I knew she was my true love still.
Aleister Crowley, Alice: An Adultery, The Twenty-Sixth Day.