The princess wept and wept again; the reason for her tears

And that her life had little joy within her royal house,

Was that her father had forgot for slowly passing years

To dower her in marriage with some rich and noble spouse.

Her mourning was so deep one night, the king woke in his

bed.

"What, troubles you, my daughter dear, why do you weep

and mourn?"

"Of your three daughters, royal sire, alone I am not wed.

Therefore my days are dark and dull; therefore I am for

lorn."

"What remedy is there for that? I'm not the one to blame;

Ambassadors from Aquitaine and lords from Normandy,

When with noble marriage proffers in suppliance they came,

You would not hearken to at all, nor treat with courtesy."

"Of all the nobles of my court not one is there I see,

Except Count Yanno, who in wealth and lineage of pride

Can for a single instant seem a worthy spouse for thee,

And he has taken to his house a fair and noble bride.''

"O noble father of my soul, you 've named the very one.

If he already has a wife, and even children too,

He owes another pledge to me, for my weak heart he won.

He gave to me his solemn word, and I believed it true."

The king sent summons to the count to come where he awaits.

He had not thought what he should do, or e'en what he

should say.

"'T is but a single moment since I left the palace gates,

And now the king demands me back; what does it mean, I

pray?"

Count Yanno enters in the hall; the king straight to him goes.

"My lord, I humbly kiss your hands; what is your royal

will?"

"You may kiss them for the honor the king on thee bestows,

In wedlock take my daughter's hand, and your sworn troth

fulfill."

Count Yanno, when he heard these words, was struck with

mortal dread.

"My royal master, I 've a wife with whom I live in bliss."

"Go kill your wife without delay, and then my daughter wed."

"What! kill my wife, so innocent! What black command is

this!"

"Be silent, Count, your insolence I will not suffer now.

One cannot trick a royal maid like any simple slave."

"My lord, before your righteous rage in penitence I bow,

That I may pay the debt alone is all I humbly crave."

"That I should kill an innocent, who's never done a wrong,

Such deadly treason would o'erwhelm my soul with shame

and sin.

The life of earth in punishment to justice would belong,

And in the life beyond the grave no pardon could I win."

"The Countess is a burden here, and therefore must she die;

In that gilt basin bring her head, all dripping with its gore."

Count Yanno left the cruel king, his soul in agony,

And followed the dark page, whose arms the fatal basin bore.

The page was clad in mourning garb, the Count in sad array,

As if in pain of parting breath his heart with anguish

swelled,

The Countess ran to meet him, as she saw him far away;

Her husband and her little child in one embrace she held.

"Well come—well come, Count, for my joy;" but not a

word he said,

He mounted slowly up the steps, and locked and barred the

door;

Then bade the wondering servants the supper table spread:

The household marveled at a mien they 'd never seen before,

They did not touch the food or wine, but sat in sad unrest.

The tears welled from Count Yanno's eyes; he bent to kiss

the child,

That to his mother's warm, soft breast his rosy lips had prest:

The infant turned to meet the kiss, and like an angel smiled.

To see that mingled smile and kiss, her heart in sobs broke

out,

The echoes of her bursting grief filled all the lofty room:

"What troubles you, my best beloved; resolve this dreadful doubt,

What is the order of the king that fills you so with gloom?"

The Count choked down his sudden sobs, he could no answer

make.

She clasped his neck and on his mouth she pressed a frantic

kiss.

"Take from my heart this agony I suffer for your sake,

Let me partake your sorrow, dear, and you shall share my

bliss."

The woeful pair from table rose, and sought in bed to rest,

But slumber came not to their eyes, to give their pains

relief.

"By the good God in heaven above, and Virgin Mary blest,

My very life I'd sooner give than see you in such grief."

"May death revenge such black command; perish his tyr

anny!

My Count, I do not understand what't is he bids thee do;

Upon my life and soul, my love, reveal it now to me,

This dreadful shadow of ill fate that comes between us

two."

"The fate of an ill-fated one, and no help can there be,

The king commands that I kill thee, and the Infanta wed."

Scarce had these dreadful words been spoke in stifled agony

When the unhappy Countess fell, as if her life had fled.

God did not give her death's relief, tho' better she had

died

For anguish deeper far than death recalled life to her heart,

"Wait, wait, Count Yanno, kill me not, but let me go and hide

In my dear father's distant house, where I can dwell apart.

"There I will live a maid again, and keep my true troth

plight;

There I will rear this infant, and guard him from all sin;

Though sorrow lies between us two, he 'll be my dear delight,

And I'll be faithful to my love as I have always been."

"How can that be, my best beloved, it is the king's black will

Within that gilded basin there to see your severed head."

"Wait, wait, Count Yanno, kill me not, I have a refuge still;

The cloistered nuns will guard me, when to their cells I've

fled.

"My bread be measured by the ounce, my drink quench not

my thirst,

Then speedily my death will come, nor will the princess

know."

"How can that be, my best beloved, since in that basin curst

I must thy severed head before the king and princess show."

"Enclose me in a dungeon dark, where neither sun nor moon

Shall light the hours I count by sighs until my life has fled."

"How can that be, my best beloved? the hour will come full

soon

When in that gilded basin there the king must see your

head."

The king knocked harshly at the door as these last words

were said:

"If the Countess still is living, quick, quick, make haste to

slay."

"The Countess says her orisons, but soon she will be dead,

And in a single moment's space her soul will pass away."

"Oh, let me say a final prayer to bid the world good-night."

"Make haste to say it, my beloved, for daybreak I can see."

"Oh, God and Virgin Mary blest, I cannot pray aright;

It is not death afflicts me so, but shameful treachery.

"I pity you more than myself, for your base cowardice;

With your own hand you take my life, though reason there

is none

Except the wicked princess' hand will pay the shameful price.

May God forgive you at the hour you stand before his

throne!

"Oh, let me say my last farewell to all I've loved so dear,

The flower of Alexandria, the roses red and white,

The little tender violets, the fountain waters clear,

I've tended you with love and care; the princess' hand will

blight.

"Give me my child, fruit of my womb, in my weak arms to

hold,

That he may feed upon the breast that swells with its last

breath.

It is my blood that he will drink, that runs so faint and cold.

Drink, little infant, drink the milk that's tinged with bitter

death.

To-day you have a mother dear, who loves you tenderly,

To-morrow a step-mother harsh, of loftiest degree."

The great church bell tolls heavily. Ah, Jesus, who is dead?

The infant's lips by miracle this wondrous answer made:

"The princess, choked with wickedness; her soul in sin has

fled;

To part such dear and faithful loves God's holy might for

bade!"

The ballad of The Ship Catharine is one of the best known and most popular among the folk-songs of Portugal. Various attempts have been made by Almeida Garrett, Braga, and others to attach it to some historical event, but without satisfactory success, and, indeed, its character is such that it is apparent that it belongs rather to the order of indefinite romance. The incidents in regard to the drawing of the lots to see who shall be eaten, and the ascent of the sailor to look for land, are to be found in the folk-songs of various maritime nations. One of them has been found in Brittany and has been preserved by M. Luzel in the Gwerzion Breiz-Izel. It relates that a vessel, which had been voyaging for twenty-seven years upon the high seas, naturally fell short of provisions, and the crew were compelled to think of eating each other:

"And when they had drawn for the short straw, it was the master of the vessel to whom it fell—Great God, is it possible that my sailors will eat me?"

"Little page, little page, you who are quick and nimble—go to the top of the main mast to find out where we are."

"And he mounted singing, and descended weeping—I have been to the top of the main mast and have not seen any land."

"Go again to the top of the main mast to find out where we are—It will be for the last time."

"He mounted weeping, and he descended singing —I believe that we are restored to land—I have seen the tower of Babylon," etc.

A ballad, The Little Midshipman, in the popular songs of Provence, is very similar in incident and language to The Ship Catharine, with a change in the localities, the midshipman seeing Toulon and Marseilles instead of the coasts of Portugal and Spain. In later French folk-song the ballad has become a burlesque after the fashion of Malbrook, and is known as Il Était un Petit Navire. This in its turn was developed in the after-dinner song of Thackeray, "There were three sailors of Bristol city," and is an instance of the persistence of folk-song, even though changed in form and purpose. The supernatural element in The Ship Catharine is rare in Portuguese popular poetry.