eat
Schiller regarding the Minnesingers: "If the sparrows should ever chance
to think of writing or publishing an almanack of love and friendship, we
might bet ten to one that it would be composed pretty much in the same
manner. What a poverty of ideas in these minnesingers! A garden, a tree,
a hedge, a forest, and a sweetheart! quite right! somewhat such are the
objects which have a place in the head of a sparrow. And the flowers,
they exhale! and the spring comes, and the winter goes, and nothing
remains but _ennui_!"

The minnesongs of the greatest masters, nevertheless, whose treasures
were unearthed after Schiller's time, enable us to form a true and vivid
estimate of the regard in which women were held when this poetry
flourished. Wolfram von Eschenbach sings the sorrows of unrequited love:

"Would I that lofty spirit melt
Of that proud dame that dwells so high,
Kind heaven must aid me, or unfelt
By her will be its agony.
Joy in my soul no place can find:
As well might I a suitor be
To thunderbolts, as hope her mind
Will turn in softer mood to me.
"Those cheeks are beautiful, are bright
As the red rose with dewdrops grac'd;
And faultless is the lovely light
Of those dear eyes, that, on me plac'd,
Pierce to my very heart, and fill
My soul with love's consuming fires,
While passion burns and reigns at will;
So deep a love that fair inspires!
"But joy upon her beauteous form
Attends, her hues so bright to shed
O'er those red lips, before whose warm
And beaming smile all care is fled.
She is to me all light and joy,
I faint, I die, before her frown;
Even Venus, liv'd she yet on earth,
A fairer goddess here must own."

The longing for a distant, hard-hearted, beloved lady is expressed by
Heinrich von Morungen in tones worthy of the best traditions of the
Greek lyric poets:

"My lady dearly loves a pretty bird,
That sings and echoes back her gentle tone;
Were I, too, near her, never should be heard
A songster's note more pleasant than my own;
Sweeter than sweetest nightingale I'd sing.
For thee, my lady fair,
This yoke of love I bear,
Deign thou to comfort me and ease my sorrowing.

"Were but the troubles of my heart by her