Though but in dream Gunhilda failed;
Though but a fancied ill assailed,
Though she but fancied fault bewailed.
Yet thought of day makes dream of night:
She is not worthy of the knight,
The inmost altar burns not bright.
If loneliness thou canst not bear,
Cannot the dragon's venom dare,
Of the pure meed thou shouldst despair.
Now sadder that lone maiden sighs,