Death, who made thee so bold,
To take from me my lovely princess,
Who was my comfort, my life,
My good, my pleasure, my riches?
Alas! I am lonely, bereft of my mate—
Adieu! my lady, my lily!
Our loves are forever severed."
And in another poem, full of expressions that show how very devoted was his affection for her, he says:
"Above her lieth spread a tomb
Of gold and sapphires blue,