Adventured in a Moorish land,

A paladin, heartstrong and brave,

Fell into Miramolin's hands,

To serve him as a captive slave.

The Moorish king a daughter had,

More white and fair than jasmine flower.

Her eyes with sparkling light were glad,

And youth and bloom her beauty's dower.

To Safim as she looked one day

Celima saw the captive knight,

With pensive gaze turned far away,

And sadness in his empty sight.

The touch she felt within her heart

She sought with shamefaced care to hide,

None guessed the wound that gave the smart,

Or heard her weeping when she cried.

Since then her pastimes had no zest,

Nor could she even peace regain,

The longing love that filled her breast

Grew every day a deeper pain.

Upon the terrace hours and hours

She sat and watched the slave below

Dig at his task among the flowers,

In summer sunshine's burning glow.

At last her longing broke her pride,

She told her passion on her knees.

He silent stood, and only sighed

For her he loved beyond the seas.

Faithful and true to his fond love,

It fenced his heart with triple shield,

Not all Celima's charms could move

A more than pitying grace to yield.

"My gold and jewels shall be thine,

If only you but wish it so,

And with your freedom give me mine;

Tell me, Christian, yes or no."

"I wish no jewels from your hand,

Or aught that may belong to thee,

Some one will come from my far land,

And for my ransom pay the fee."

"Then let me be your humble slave

To serve you wheresoe'er you go.

No better fortune can I crave,

Tell me, Christian, yes or no."

"My humble slave you must not be,

A better fortune is your due;

How came your love to fix on me,

Who have no heart to give to you?"

"My God and father I 'll forswear,

And only yours will seek to know;

Every curse of heaven I 'll dare,

Tell me, Christian, yes or no."

"Your love and riches tempt me not.

Both love and riches wait for me.

Accursed be the fatal lot

That brought me o'er the sad, salt sea.

''I spurn a soul that turns to God,

A heart for me that suffers pain.

Be happy in the paths you've trod,

And love a youth who loves again."

When these sad words the captive said,

With sudden wrath she turned away.

In seven days the knight was dead.

Was it her deed? No one can say.

The epoch of the Crusades is beyond the limit of the popular ballads which have been preserved, although it is probable that they may have had their foundation in originals of that date. The story of the return of the spouse from the Holy Land, and his making himself known after various trials of his wife's fidelity, is a common one in the ballads of all European nations, and is of a character to appeal to the dramatic instincts of the popular poets. Close resemblances to the ballad of The Fair Princess can be found in German, French, and Spanish popular poetry, and the theme itself of course dates back to the return of Ulysses, and to the ballads which were the origin of the Odyssey.