'The falsest damosel she is
That works men ill on earth, I wis,
And all her mind is toward but this,
To kill as with a lying kiss
⁠Truth, and the life of noble trust.
A brother hath she,—see but now
The flame of shame that brands her brow!—
A true man, pure as faith's own vow,
⁠Whose honour knows not rust.

'This good knight found within her bower
A felon and her paramour,
And slew him in his shameful hour,
As right gave might and righteous power
⁠To hands that wreaked so foul a wrong.
Then, for the hate her heart put on,
She sought by ways where death had gone
The lady Lyle of Avalon,
⁠Whose crafts are strange and strong.