In his own worth In his life was grace Even in his heart and memories He was god But now in oblivion And his darkest days yet to come A soul now free from stains of evil Nor can this thought of him Who loved him least If he ever was loved He cannot raze out His lamented tomb Remembering what he is But suiting to his habit And his virtue was best attired Now in the waste of many idle words Not cared to be heard He who search for the child pure at heart Lost within him The true love and active grace Gestures so mild Clean-tempered, steady trust As he descended from his illustrious blood He heard The overwhelming sound of lust and desire With great confidence He joined them in sinful fornication As God wept, and the Earth raged He fell from grace Never had he known such passion He was free