LVII
Fain would he have caress'd her as gentle love inspires,
Had but the wayward maiden granted his desires;
But there he sore was troubled, so fiercely storm'd his mate.
He look'd for fond affection, and met with deadly hate.
LVIII
"Sir knight," said she, "it suits not—you'd better leave me free
From all your present purpose—it must and shall not be.
A maid still will I keep me (think well the matter o'er)
Till I am told that story." This fretted Gunther sore.
LIX
Then for her love he struggled e'en till her robe he rent;
With that, up caught the maiden a cord with fell intent
(About her waist she wore it, strong was the same and tough),
And wrought her lord and master shame and wrong enough.
LX
The feet and hands of Gunther she tied together all,
Then to a nail she bore him, and hung him 'gainst the wall,
And bade him not disturb her, nor breathe of love a breath.
Sure from the doughty damsel he all but met his death.
LXI
Humbly to beg began he, who master should have been,
"Untie me, I beseech you, right fair and noble queen
For your love will I never against your pleasure try,
And ne'er again will venture so close to you to lie."