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!