III.

Why does he come to me,

With his deep, impassioned eyes,

Stealing my soul from me?

Surely a high emprise

For such an one as he

To smile an hour on me —

To win a worthless prize,

Would he might let me be!

Proud am I — proud as he

For my name as his is old —

What should he say to me?

I have neither lands nor gold.

Ah, a merry jest‘ twill be

To win my heart from me —

( The tale will be soon told! )

Would he might let me be!