Fair Hedwig lay at the window, to see If pale Henry would chance to detect her; She said half aloud: “Why goodness me! The man is as pale as a spectre!”
With yearning pale Henry look’d above At her window, in hopes to detect her; Fair Hedwig now felt the torments of love, And she became pale as a spectre.
Love-sick, now stood fair Hedwig all day At her window, lest he should reject her; But soon in pale Henry’s arms she lay All night, at the time for a spectre.
I know a story of anguish, A tale of the times of old; A knight with love doth languish, His mistress is faithless and cold.
As faithless must he esteem now Her whom in his heart he adored; His loving pangs must he deem now Disgraceful and abhorr’d.
In vain in the lists would he wander, And challenge to battle each knight; “Let him who my mistress dares slander Make ready at once for the fight!”
But all are silent, save only His grief, that so fiercely doth burn; His lance he against his own lonely Accusing bosom must turn.
I leaning stood against the mast, And told each wave of ocean; Farewell, my beauteous fatherland! My bark, how swift thy motion!
I pass’d my lovely mistress’ house, The windows gleam’d all over; But though I gazed and gazed and gazed, No sign could I discover.
Ye tears, obscure not thus mine eyes On this too-painful morrow; My love-sick heart, O do not break With overweight of sorrow!
Sir Ulrich rides in the forest so green, The leaves with joy seem laden; He sees, the trees’ thick branches between, The form of a beauteous maiden.
The youth then said: “Well know I thee, So blooming and glowing thy face is; Alluringly ever encircles it me, In deserts or crowded places.
“Those lips, by fresh loveliness ever stirr’d, Appear a pair of roses; Yet many a hateful bitter word That roguish mouth discloses.
“A pretty rosebush a mouth like this Resembles very closely, Where cunning poisonous serpents hiss Amid the leaves morosely.
“Within those beauteous cheeks there lies A sweet and beauteous dimple; That is the grave where I fell by surprise, Lured on by a yearning simple.
“There see I the beauteous locks of hair, That once so lovingly pleased me; That is the net so wondrous fair Wherewith the Evil One seized me.