To his grievous harm and loss;
A trap for his youth so tender
Is laid by the damsel Fos."

The Princess rode in her chariot,
Away to the market-place,
With her own proud eyes beholding
The beautiful tempter's face.

But she saw a stately maiden,
With such pure and dove-like eyes,
Clothed in beauty like a flower,
Or a saint from Paradise.

"No wonder my son, so youthful,
Fixed his heart on one like thee;
For if I were a Prince of Dessau,
Willing captive I might be.

"But you are a doctor's daughter,
My son's of a princely line;
You may wed with one more humble,
But never with son of mine.

"But my son is very wilful,
We must conquer him with guile;
To foreign courts he shall away,
Where most noble ladies smile.

"One he'll see whose rank is princely,