To King Carl’s service I am bound,
And must not look on thee; thy tear
I will not have within my wound.—
My sire beyond the milky way
Is wroth: he heard the oath I took.
How fair, though, is the tempter’s look!
How winning! Satan, hence, away!—
Where is my belt and my commands?
I took them from my king’s own hands.
My father’s sword is good, it smites