'T was in the month of April,

The day before May day,

When roses red, and lilies white,

Are blooming bright and gay.

The night was calm and cloudless,

With golden stars arrayed,

The Infanta, fair Flerida,

In her wide garden strayed.

"God guard you, tender flowers,

Great joy you've given me;

I go to a strange land;

Such is my fate's decree.

"If my father seeks me,

He who loves me well;

Tell him that love has drawn me

Within its fatal spell.

"Tell him that fateful love

Has seized me in its hold;

I know not where I go,

And none to me has told."

Then Dom Duardos spoke:

"Oh, weep not so, my dear,

In the great realm of England

Are fairer things than here.

"There are more limpid streams,

And gardens yet more fair.

A thousand flowers blooming,

And scenting all the air.

"Three hundred maids shall serve,

And all of noble strain,

And palaces of silver,

Where you shall nobly reign.

"With emeralds of green,

And finest Turkish gold,

Upon the shining walls

The story shall be told

"How, to do you honor,

I fought Primaleon.

I did not fear his strength,

When your bright glances shone."

When fair Flerida heard,

She wiped her tears away.

And hand in hand they went

To where his galleys lay.

The fifty galleys brave

Moved out upon the deep,

And to their chiming oars

Flerida fell asleep,

In Dom Duardos' arms,

Whose heart with joy did leap.

Know all men that are born,

How sure is fate's decree,

From neither love nor death

Can mortal man be free.

Ballads on the subject of the slaying a would-be ravisher with his own arms are common in popular poetry, and striking examples are found in Scotch, French, and Spanish. There are several variants in Portuguese of The Pilgrim Maid, but the best is that furnished by Almeida Garrett.