Then swift did the seneschal arm him, and I ween in fierce anger's fire A woodland he fain had wasted 'gainst the foe, who with strong desire And love was thus sorely burdened; for Frau Minne a magic spell Had wrought with the snow-flakes spotless, and the blood-drops that crimson fell. 200 And his knighthood he sorely shamèd, who thought here to work him harm, Since he faileth true Love to honour, who denieth of Love the charm. Frau Minne, say, why dost thou make glad the souls that mourn With bliss that too swiftly fleeting, but leaveth them more forlorn? And how canst thou, Frau Minne, true worth and knightly fame, 205 And manly strength and courage, thus vanquish and put to shame? For the least is to thee as the greatest, and the earth shall no hero boast, Who thinketh to scorn thine empire, but he learneth unto his cost That thou canst, an thou wilt, o'erthrow him; yea, all men thy power obey, For thy sceptre we own as mighty, and wide as the world its sway. 210 Yet this one thing it doth thee honour, tho' thou rulest all else but ill, Joy maketh her dwelling with thee, and for this would I praise thee still! Frau Minne, alas! of old time full false were thy ways, I ween, Nor hast thou thy dealings mended, nor to-day hast thou truer been, Thou hast many a maiden shamèd, who love forbidden sought; 215 Thro' thy dealings, upon the vassal, his lord hath sorrow brought; And the friend shall false and faithless to the friend of his bosom prove, And the servant betray his master; such deeds do but shame thee, Love! And I would that it were far from thee, the body to yield to lust, In such wise that the soul ashamèd is stricken with sorrow's thrust, 220 And that with force compelling, the young thou makest old, Though their years but few be counted, this must we for treason hold!