The lute player

She was a lady great and splendid,

I was a minstrel in her halls.

A warrior like a prince attended

Stayed his steed by the castle walls.

Far had he fared to gaze upon her;

"Oh, rest thee now, Sir Knight!" she said.

The warrior wooed, the warrior won her,

In time of snowdrops they were wed.

I made sweet music in his honour --

And longed to strike him dead.

I passed at midnight from her portal,

Throughout the world till death I rove.

Ah, let me make this Lute immortal

With rapture of my hate and love!