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Nor knew I when came winter,
Save by one token, mother.
In winter the damsels as they played at snowballs,
Would throw to me a snowball,
By that I knew that winter was come.
In summer they would throw me a spray of basil,
By that I knew that it was summer.
When the eighth year began,
It was not the prison that tormented me,
But a Moorish maiden, 40
Dear daughter of the Moorish King.
Morning and evening she would come,
And call to me through the dungeon window:
'Pine not away, unhappy Marko, in thy dungeon!
But give me thy solemn oath
That thou wilt take me to wife,
And I shall deliver thee out of prison,
And thy good Sharatz out of his stable.
I shall take of yellow ducats,
My poor Marko, as many as thou pleasest.' 50
When I considered of my evil plight,
I took off my cap and laid it on my knee,
And swore to the cap on my knee, saying:
'I take solemn oath I will not leave thee,
I take solemn oath I will not deceive thee.
The sun himself breaketh faith,
And warmeth not the earth in winter as in summer,
But never will I break mine oath!'
The Moorish maiden pondered this,
Thinking it was to her I swore. 60
On a night when darkness was come,
She opened the door of my dungeon,
She led me forth of the dungeon, mother,
She brought me the fiery Sharatz,
And for herself a better still than Sharatz,
And on both were saddle-bags full of ducats.
She brought me my rich-wrought sabre.
