Forgive me, dear, for this offence,
In love I hasted in thy expense,
For thou accepted not, such speed intensed.
But what should have been done?
If much so differed as thou suggested,
he who watched from then laughst earlier.
In his mind of thee, thou wast molested,
Burneth with flames, far from my ember.
Yet it changes not the story's end,
in my speed or halt hath been thy grave,
For mourn I shed of my dead friend,
Murdered in hell at what he gave.