There ne’er shall the blest sun on me cast its ray,
Till I’ve through repentance my sins wiped away.”
To his page the King spake with so serious an air:
“Command thou Sir Buris to me to repair.
“Hark, hark thou, Sir Knight, what I now say to thee,
How hast thou been found in thy duty to me?
I left thee a vine-yard for thee to watch o’er,
Therein hast thou done me an injury sore.
The loveliest vine in the vineyard that stood,
That hast thou destroyed to thy own little good.”
Sir Buris he fell on his knee ’fore the King:
“My dear lord and master, O pardon this thing.”
“No, thou too shalt suffer both torment and shame,
To a sharp shameful death through thy treachery she came.”
“The cruellest death ye for me can invent,
To thou for the beautiful maid I’m content.”
“Let the eyes of the horse-thief be torn from his head,
Because he the beautiful damsel betray’d.”
They’ve torn from the sockets Sir Buris’s eyes,
In spite of Queen Sophy’s entreaties and cries.