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Such a dreadful tale of Thrasyllus

The depths to which lust plummets a man

His desire was the hand of fair Charite

But only his undoing he did reap

Into the wild to make a hunt

Thrasyllus and Tlepolemus, brothers in arms

The former did covet his fellow's wife

And slew him under a feral beast's guise

Deprived of Tlepolemus, Charite fell crazed

Starved and destitute, lamenting great

Until Thrasyllus could no longer bide his time

And petitioned for her to be his wife

Charite, struck aghast, did retreat

In dreams came Tlepolemus and told his fate

Awake the chaste wife hatched a vengeful plan

With drugged cup to the lips of wicked man

The blood of thine eyes poured as libation

To sate the grave where belov'd Tlepolemus sleep

Dream that thou art in the hands of the mercy

Thou shalt think Tlepolemus' fate more sweet

Murderer!

Charite flew to her husband's tomb in triumph

And fell upon her sword, revenge fulfilled

Blind Thrasyllus went upon the lovers' sepulchre

Enclosed himself, and starved to death at will