PRINCE MARKO AND THE DAUGHTER OF THE MOORISH KING

So many monasteries wherefore hast thou begun? Hast thou sinned before God? Or by good hap hast thou won the gold abroad?” Marko of Prilip answered: “I will tell in the name of God. Once, when I was in the Moorish land, at dawn to a cistern fair I went, that Dapple might drink thereof; and behold, at the water there, Were twelve Moors. Out of my due time I wished to water the steed; The twelve Moors would not let me, and a battle did we breed. Thereat I drew the heavy mace, and smote a black Moor down. We smote against each other, eleven against one. Two I smote down, and ten of them came furiously at me. Then nine of them must I abide, for I had stricken three. The fourth fell; eight were the champions against me that did drive. But I struck again; on the red ground lay ruddy corpses five. I slew the sixth, but was taken by the six that were left alive. They bound me, and they bore me to the Moorish king along; And the king of the Moors threw me into the dungeon strong. Seven years was I in it: when summer was at hand I knew not, nor when winter had come across the land; Except that, when in winter the girls the snowballs cast, Then would they toss a snowball into the dungeon fast; And then I knew it was winter, as I lay within the tower. In the summer, they would throw me a sprig of basil flower, And I knew it was summer. The eighth year in prison that I was, I wearied not of prison, but of a Moorish lass. Unto the Moorish Sultan the daughter dear was she; Night and morn to the window of the tower she summoned me: “ ‘Marko, poor lad, in the dungeon I prithee rot not here, But give true pledge thou wilt take me to be thy true love dear, If I free thee from the dungeon, and thy Dapple from the hold. Marko, unto thy heart’s desire will I gather ducats of gold.’ “When I saw that might was against me, and strength compelling me, I took my cap from off my head, and swore to it on my knee, A firm pledge to the cap I swore: ‘Thee I will never leave; A firm pledge, and moreover, ne’er will I thee deceive. E’en the sun is false; he warms not winter as summertide— Never will I renounce the pledge; thereby will I abide.’ “Then thought the Moorish maiden that unto her I swore. One night, at fall of darkness, she opened the dungeon door And led me out of the dungeon, and Dapple from the hold, And a better horse for herself. On both were holsters full of gold; She brought a silver-hilted sword. On the horses we laid hand, And forthwith galloped onward over the Moorish land. When the dawn shone, my mother, I sat me down to rest; And the Moorish maid, with her black arms she clasped me to her breast. When I looked on her, my mother, she was black and her teeth were white, And it was a thing unpleasing and dreadful in my sight. The silver-hilted saber forth from the sheath I drew; I smote her under her silken belt; the blade cut through and through. I seized on Dapple; still the head of the Moorish maid spake on: ‘My brother Marko, wretched lad, leave me not here alone.’ Then, mother, I sinned in the sight of God, but gained much gold and gear, Whereby the monasteries and churches fair I rear.”