Yes, This Is Finally the End

But let Rochester himself have the last words:

"The madness of Tristram" by Edward Burne-Jones

 You wiser men, despise me not
Whose lovesick fancy raves
On shades of souls, and heaven knows what:
Short ages live in graves.

Whene'er those wounding eyes so full
Of sweetness, you did see,
Had you not been profoundly dull,
You had gone mad like me.