Yet Guinevere wrought so wisely Segramor was well-nigh fain To die of joy, from King Arthur, his lady this grace did gain. And on fame and honour only was the gallant youth intent, 115 Nor for gold had he sold the venture on which his heart was bent. Now the hero young and beardless, well armed his steed bestrode, And over the fresh young greensward his charger at full speed rode; And the bushes were bent beneath him, and the golden bells rang clear On trapping alike and armour; and I deem well an need were here 120 To seek for the magic pheasant mid thicket and thorny brake, He who fain this knight had followed, the bells for his guide might take! Thus rashly rode the hero, to him whom Frau Minne's spell Fast fettered in magic fetters, and no blow at the first there fell, For the peace by his word was broken--There held fast by threefold might, 125 And the power of red blood-drops threefold stood ever the stranger knight. (Yea, well I myself have known this, how Frau Minne with power may hold, And holding, the senses scatter, and with passion of grief untold Shall fill the heart to o'erflowing--'Twas a woman who wrought this ill, And vanquished, she doth condemn me, and refuseth me comfort still. 130 Thus draweth she guilt upon her, for the sin shall be hers, I ween, And afar must I fly from the presence, that of old time my joy hath been.) Thus Segramor quoth unto him, 'Now it seemeth but ill to me That thus near our army lieth, and our presence rejoiceth thee! And thou holdest his fame too lightly, whom with pride we may hail our king, 135 And 'tis meet thou for this do penance,--or the death-chime for me shall ring! Thus armed, all too near thou ridest; yet first would I courteous pray That thou yield thee at this my bidding, or my wrong will I here repay, And my blow shall be swift, and thy falling shall scatter these snow-flakes white! And I call on thee here to yield thee, ere I put thee to shame, Sir Knight!' 140