test the true love of her lover, and not to lose it for ever; and, seeing the evident danger of this, she sent him an epistle, which, rudely rendered, runs as follow:—
"Because, unless it well be proven, Love
For strong and loyal no one can approve,
I wished to wait till proven to my mind
Was that I longed so ardently to find.
A husband full of perfect love it was
That I desired, a love that would not pass;
And so I begged my parents not to haste,
Still to delay, let one year, two years, waste
Before I played the game that must endure
Till death, which many a one repents, for sure.
I never said I would not have your love;
So great I loss I was not dreaming of,
For, certes, none but you I loved at all—
None other would I lord and husband call.
Ah me! my love; what bitterness to say,
That thou without a word art gone away!
A narrow cell, in convent life austere—
These are your choice; O misery to hear!
Now must I change my office, pleading so,
As once in guileless words you used to do—
Requiring that which was of me required,
Acquiring him by whom I was acquired.
Nay, now, my love, life of the life of me,
I do not care to live bereft of thee.
Ah! turn again thy distant eyes to mine;
Turn on thy steps, if so thy will incline.
Leave thou the cowl of grey, the life austere;
All of my love and all my heart are here,
By thee so many times, so much desired.
Time hath not changed my heart—it hath not tired.
For thee, for thee alone, I keep my heart,
And that must break if thou must keep apart.
Come, then, again, return; believe thy Dear;
Consider in thy mind how many a year
We might be happy, joined in holy marriage;
And me believe, and not thy cruel courage.
Be sure I never meant to say or do
A word to wound, I deed to make thee rue.
