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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

Deceiver

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

Anger

He who search for the child pure at heart lost with him
The true love and active grace gestures so mild

Clean-tempered, steady trust, as he descended from his illustrious blood

Wrath

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

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