Friend, thou hast won

"Friend, thou hast won; I pardon thee, nor save

This body, that all torments can endure,

But save my soul; baptism I dying crave,

Come, wash away my sins with waters pure."

His heart relenting nigh in sunder rave,

With woeful speech of that sweet creature;

So that his rage, his wrath and anger died,

And on his cheeks salt tears for ruth down slide.

With murmur loud down from the mountain's side

A little runnel tumbled near the place,

Thither he ran and filled his helmet wide,

And quick return'd to do that work of grace;

With trembling hands her beaver he untied,

Which done, he saw, and seeing knew her face,

And lost therewith his speech and moving quite;

O woeful knowledge! An unhappy sight!

He died not, but all his strength unites,

And to his virtues gave his heart in guard;

Bridling his grief, with water he requites

The life that he bereft with iron hard:

And while the sacred words the knight recites,

The nymph to heav'n with joy herself prepar'd;

And as her life decays her joys increase;

She smil'd and said "Farewell! I die in peace".