The cup is bitter, and his song is mournful.

He does the rarest thing a man will do in such a predicament--he acknowledges that he is going to get his deserts.

The faithfulness and purity of Camilla have struck his inner consciousness.
He knows not where she may be.

He has secretly sent messengers in all directions to seek her, and recover her, and obtain her pardon: in vain.
It is as well, perhaps, that he should never see her more.

Accursed, he has cast off his sweetest friend.