Saying, "Wilt thou own it, Princess?
There at least is no defeat!"
Scornfully she looked upon me
With a measured eye and cold—
Scornfully she viewed the token,
Though her fingers wrought the gold;
And she answered, faintly flushing,
"Hast thou kept it, then, so long?
Worthy matter for a minstrel
To be told in knightly song!