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| IT was a Moorish maiden was sitting by a well, | |
| And what that maiden thought of, I cannot, cannot tell, | |
| When by there rode a valiant knight, from the town of Oviedo— | |
| Alphonso Guzman was he hight, the Count of Desparedo. | |
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| “O maiden, Moorish maiden! why sitt’st thou by the spring? | 5 |
| Say, dost thou seek a lover, or any other thing? | |
| Why gazest thou upon me, with eyes so large and wide, | |
| And wherefore doth the pitcher lie broken by thy side?” | |
| |
| “I do not seek a lover, thou Christian knight so gay, | |
| Because an article like that hath never come my way; | 10 |
| But why I gaze upon you, I cannot, cannot tell, | |
| Except that in your iron hose you look uncommon swell. | |
| |
| “My pitcher it is broken, and this the reason is— | |
| A shepherd came behind me, and tried to snatch a kiss; | |
| I would not stand his nonsense, so ne’er a word I spoke, | 15 |
| But scored him on the costard, and so the jug was broke. | |
| |
| “My uncle, the Alcaydè, he waits for me at home, | |
| And will not take his tumbler until Zorayda come. | |
| I cannot bring him water,—the pitcher is in pieces; | |
| And so I’m sure to catch it, ’cos he wallops all his nieces.” | 20 |
| |
| “O maiden, Moorish maiden! wilt thou be ruled by me? | |
| So wipe thine eyes and rosy lips, and give me kisses three; | |
| And I’ll give thee my helmet, thou kind and courteous lady, | |
| To carry home the water to thine uncle, the Alcaydè.” | |
| |
| He lighted down from off his steed—he tied him to a tree— | 25 |
| He bowed him to the maiden, and took his kisses three: | |
| “To wrong thee, sweet Zorayda, I swear would be a sin!” | |
| He knelt him at the fountain, and dipped his helmet in. | |
| |
| Up rose the Moorish maiden—behind the knight she steals, | |
| And caught Alphonso Guzman up tightly by the heels; | 30 |
| She tipped him in, and held him down beneath the bubbling water,— | |
| “Now, take thou that for venturing to kiss Al Hamet’s daughter!” | |
| |
| A Christian maid is weeping in the town of Oviedo; | |
| She waits the coming of her love, the Count of Desperedo. | |
| I pray you all in charity, that you will never tell | 35 |
| How he met Moorish maiden beside the lonely well. | |
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