y given,
And consecrated to its service true
The heart and hand I erst had given to you.

When I was yours you nothing showed of grace,
And I that nothing loved, for your fair face;
Then, death for loyalty, you sought to give,
And I, in fleeing it, have learnt to live.
For, by the tender love that Time hath brought
The other vanquished is, and turned to nought;
Once did it lure and lull me, but I swear
It now hath wholly vanished in thin air.
And so your love and you I gladly leave,
And, needing neither, will forbear to grieve;
The other perfect, lasting love is mine,
To it I turn, nor for the lost one pine.

My leave I take of cruelty and pain,
Of hatred, bitter torment, cold disdain,
And those hot flames which fill you, and which fire
Him, that beholds your beauty, with desire.
Nor can I better part from ev'ry throe,
From ev'ry evil hap, and stress of woe,
And the fierce passion of love's awful hell,
Than by this single utterance: _Farewell_.
Learn therefore, that whate'er may be in store,
Each other's faces we shall see no more."

This letter was not read without many tears and much astonishment on the
Queen's part, together with regret surpassing belief; for the loss of
a lover filled with so perfect a love must needs have been keenly felt;
and not all her treasures, nor even her kingdom itself, could hinder the
Queen from being the poorest and most wretched lady in the world, seeing
that she had lost that which all the world's wealth could not replace.
And having heard mass to the end and returned to her apartment, she
there made such mourning as her cruelty had provoked. And there was not
a mountain, a rock or a forest to which she did not send in quest of the
hermit; but He who had withdrawn him out of her hands preserved him from
falling into them again, and took him away to Paradise before she could
gain tidings of him in this world.

"This instance shows that a lover should never acknowledge that which
may do him harm and in no wise help him. And still less, ladies, should
you in your incredulity demand so hard a test, lest in getting your
proof you lose your lover."

"Truly, Dagoucin," said Geburon, "I had all my life long deemed the lady
of your story to be the most virtuous in the world, but now I hold her
for the most cruel woman that ever lived."

"Nevertheless," said Parlam