"Straight to the wicket did she speed;
'Good watchman, spare thy joke!
Warn not my love, till o'er the mead
The morning sun has broke:
Too short, alas! the time, since here
I tarried with my leman dear,
In love and converse sweet.'

"'Lady, be warn'd! on roof and mead
The dew drops glitter gay;
Then quickly bid thy leman speed,
Nor linger till the day;
For by the twilight did I mark
Wolves hying to their covert dark,
And stags to covert fly.'

"Now by the rising sun I view'd
In tears my lady's face;
She gave me many a token good,
And many a soft embrace.
Our parting bitterly we mourn'd;
The hearts which erst with rapture burn'd,
Were cold with woe and care.

"A ring with glittering ruby red,
Gave me that lady sheen,
And with me from the castle sped
Along the meadow green:
And whilst I saw my leman bright,
She waved on high her kerchief white:
'Courage! to arms!' she cried.

"In the raging fight each pennon white
Reminds me of her love;
In the field of blood, with mournful mood,
I see her kerchief move;
Through foes I hew, whene'er I view
Her ruby ring, and blithely sing,
'Lady, I fight for thee.'"

The end of wooing is thus always understood to be the gratification of
passion. But many ladies of the era of chivalry were extremely exacting,
and imposed heavy tasks for the attainments of the prize which they
alone could bestow. They allowed very slight favors at first, a glance,
a trifle, otherwise they let the lover long and languish, as, for
instance, in the case of the knight Ulrich von Lichtenstein, whom we
shall soon consider more closely. Sometimes, however, favors which by
modern standards would appear very improper were readily granted with a
charming naivete! The lover was allowed to accompany the lady of his
heart to her bed chamber, and wait upon her and help her undress, a
rather crucial service, as the mediaeval custom was to sleep without any
garments at all.

Weinhold calls minne the crown jewel of the German language, the love
which rests in the soul; but it also had its shameful history of
debasement, and finally met its death when the sensual prevailed over
the spiritual, when minne became lust. Reinmar von Zwet