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To Merry the ascent seemed agelong, a meaningless journey in a hateful dream, going on and on to some dim ending that memory cannot seize.

She in her agelong toil and care Persistent, wearies not nor stays, Mocking alike hope and despair.

I do not propose here to reopen the agelong dispute between free will and determinism, which seems to me largely verbal.

In his own spirit is enacted the agelong world-drama of toil.

So only shall ye close this agelong strife, Nor by redemption of a too fair wife, Now smiling, now averse, now hot, now cold, O Menelaus, may the tale be told!