pleased with light things, as is fit!"[1] This Minnesinger applied most earnest standards to life; lofty his praise of the qualities of womanhood, which are better than beauty or riches: "woman" is a higher word than "lady"[2]—it took a German to say this. "He who carries hidden sorrow in his heart, let him think upon a good woman—he is freed."[3] With a burst of patriotism, in one of his greatest poems Walther praises German women as the best in all the world.[4]
But even in the Minnelieder, Walther has his despondencies. One of the most definite, and possibly conventional, was regret for love's labour lost, and the days of youth spent in service of an ungracious fair. The poet wonders how it is that he who has helped other men is tongue-tied before his lady. Again, his reflections broaden from thoughts of unresponsive fair ones to a conviction of life's thanklessness. "I have well served the World (Frau Welt, Society), and gladly would serve her more, but for her evil thanks and her way of preferring fools to me.… Come, World, give me better greeting—the loss is not all mine." He knows his good unbending temper which will not endure to hear ill spoken of the upright. But he thinks, what is the use? why speak so sweetly, why sing, when virtue and beauty are so lightly held, and every one does evil, fearing nought? The verse which carries these reflections is tossing in the squally haven of Society; soon the poet will encounter the wild sea without. Still from the windy harbour comes one grand lament over art's decline: "The worst songs please, frogs' voices! Oh, I laugh from anger! Lady World, no score of mine is on your devil's slate. Many a life of man and woman have I made glad—might I so have gladdened mine! Here, I make my Will, and bequeath my goods—to the envious my ill-luck, my sorrows to the liars, my follies to false lovers, and to the ladies my heart's pain."[5] He makes a solemn offering of his poems: "Good women, worthy men, a loving greeting is my due. Forty years have I sung fittingly of love; and now, take my songs which gladden, as my gift to you. Your favour be my return. And with my staff I will fare on, still wooing worth with
