The daughter of a line of princes;
Oh, she was very fair to wed;
She wears seven rings upon her fingers,
Twice seven veils upon her head.
The fame of her has spread to Tunis,
To Tunis where the pirates be;
And they have armed their seven galleys,
And all the seven set to sea;
Seven galleys and three hundred seamen
They have set out upon the sea.
They come a-sailing into harbor,
And every crafty blackamoor
Has dressed himself like to a Christian
To go unto the lady's door.
“O Sibilla! O noble lady!
Open, I pray, thy door to me!”
“My husband he is gone a-hunting,
I cannot open unto thee.”
The blackamoors they will not listen,
But they have broken in the door;
By hands and feet they seize the lady,
And carry her down to the shore.
The husband comes home from his hunting
And all the people, weeping, say:
“She is not here, thy noble lady,
The Moors have stolen her away.”
The husband goes down to the harbor,
His tears are falling like the rain;
“Oh, I will load your ships with treasure;
Give me my noble bride again.”
“Though you should load my ships with treasure
Until they sink into the sea;
Though you should load my ships with treasure,
Your noble lady stays with me.”
“O noble captain of the galleys,
Listen, and do me this one grace,
That I may speak here with my lady,
And look once more upon her face.”
“O Sibilla, my noble lady!
How couldst thou let them take thee thus?
Thou hast left thy little son behind thee,
Tell me what will become of us?
How shall I feed him lest he die?
And who will sing his lullaby?”
After three days the sailors beg her:
“O noble lady, eat and drink.”
“I have no wish for eating, sleeping,
For always on my house I think.
Only one thing can do me good,
To give my starving baby food.”
The mariners they lie a-sleeping;
She throws herself into the sea;
But they have made them silken ladders
And drawn her out full skillfully.
And now the ship goes sailing, swinging,
And the fair lady goes a-singing:
“O sailor, sailing, always sailing,
Tell me how does the sea-wind blow;
Be it the South wind, be it the North wind,
To my father I will go.”
“O my father, my dear father!
Wilt thou not come and ransom me?”
“O my daughter, my dear daughter,
Tell me what must thy ransom be?”
“Three gold lions, three gold falcons,
Four gold columns it must be.”
“I cannot part with so much treasure,
How much better to part with thee!”
“Wilt thou not eat and drink, fair lady?”
“Oh, no, I cannot eat nor drink.
What should I do with eating, sleeping,
When always the same thought I think?
My baby dies for lack of food,
What meat or drink can do me good?”
The ship close to the shore goes driving,
It turns and goes a-sailing, swinging,
And the fair lady goes a-singing:
“O sailor, sailing, always sailing,
Tell me how does the sea-wind blow?
Be it the South wind, be it the North wind,
To my mother I will go.”
“O my mother, my dear mother!
Wilt thou not come and ransom me?”
“O my daughter, my dear daughter,
Tell me what must thy ransom be?”
“Three gold lions, three gold falcons,
Four gold columns it must be.”
“I cannot part with so much money,
How much better to part with thee!”
“Wilt thou not eat and live, fair lady?
Wilt thou not sleep and do thee good?”
“Only one thought I 'm always thinking,
My little baby dies for food.”
Now close along the land they 're driving,
But the ship goes sailing, swinging,
And the fair lady goes a-singing:
“O sailor, sailing, always sailing,
Tell me how does the sea-wind blow?
Be it the South wind, be it the North wind,
To my brother I will go.”
“O my brother, my dear brother!
Wilt thou not come and ransom me?”
“O my sister, my dear sister,
Tell me, what must thy ransom be?”
“Three gold lions, three gold falcons,
Four gold columns it must be.”
“I cannot part with so much treasure,
How much better to part with thee!”
And now along the shore they 're driving,
But the ship goes sailing, swinging,
And the fair lady goes a-singing:
“O sailor, sailing, always sailing,
Tell me how does the sea-wind blow?
Be it Sirocco or Tramontana,
To my sister I will go.”
“O my sister, my dear sister!
Wilt thou not come and ransom me?”
“O my sister, my dear sister,
Tell me, what must thy ransom be?”
“Three gold lions, three gold falcons,
Four gold columns it must be.”
“I cannot part with so much treasure,
How much better to part with thee!”
“O sailor, sailing, always sailing,
Tell me how does the sea-wind blow?
Be it Sirocco or Tramontana,
To my husband I will go.”
“O my husband, my dear husband!
Wilt thou not come and ransom me?”
“O my lady, my dear lady,
Tell me, what must thy ransom be?”
“Three gold lions, three gold falcons,
Four gold columns it must be.”
“Better to part with all my treasure;
Enough that I never part from thee.”
. . . . . . .
And after three days were ended,
Her father was lying dead:
“Then let him die, and but little care I,
I will wear a gown all of red.”
And after three days were ended,
Her mother was lying dead:
“Oh, let her die, and what care I?
I will dress all in yellow,” she said.
And after three days were ended,
Her brother was lying dead:
“Oh, let him die, and what care I?
I will dress all in green,” she said.
And after three days were ended,
Her sister was lying dead:
“Oh, let her die, for what care I?
I will dress all in white,” she said.
“But if my own dear love were dead,
I should wear blackest black,” she said.
Oh, she was very fair to wed;
She wears seven rings upon her fingers,
Twice seven veils upon her head.
The fame of her has spread to Tunis,
To Tunis where the pirates be;
And they have armed their seven galleys,
And all the seven set to sea;
Seven galleys and three hundred seamen
They have set out upon the sea.
They come a-sailing into harbor,
And every crafty blackamoor
Has dressed himself like to a Christian
To go unto the lady's door.
“O Sibilla! O noble lady!
Open, I pray, thy door to me!”
“My husband he is gone a-hunting,
I cannot open unto thee.”
The blackamoors they will not listen,
But they have broken in the door;
By hands and feet they seize the lady,
And carry her down to the shore.
The husband comes home from his hunting
And all the people, weeping, say:
“She is not here, thy noble lady,
The Moors have stolen her away.”
The husband goes down to the harbor,
His tears are falling like the rain;
“Oh, I will load your ships with treasure;
Give me my noble bride again.”
“Though you should load my ships with treasure
Until they sink into the sea;
Though you should load my ships with treasure,
Your noble lady stays with me.”
“O noble captain of the galleys,
Listen, and do me this one grace,
That I may speak here with my lady,
And look once more upon her face.”
“O Sibilla, my noble lady!
How couldst thou let them take thee thus?
Thou hast left thy little son behind thee,
Tell me what will become of us?
How shall I feed him lest he die?
And who will sing his lullaby?”
After three days the sailors beg her:
“O noble lady, eat and drink.”
“I have no wish for eating, sleeping,
For always on my house I think.
Only one thing can do me good,
To give my starving baby food.”
The mariners they lie a-sleeping;
She throws herself into the sea;
But they have made them silken ladders
And drawn her out full skillfully.
And now the ship goes sailing, swinging,
And the fair lady goes a-singing:
“O sailor, sailing, always sailing,
Tell me how does the sea-wind blow;
Be it the South wind, be it the North wind,
To my father I will go.”
“O my father, my dear father!
Wilt thou not come and ransom me?”
“O my daughter, my dear daughter,
Tell me what must thy ransom be?”
“Three gold lions, three gold falcons,
Four gold columns it must be.”
“I cannot part with so much treasure,
How much better to part with thee!”
“Wilt thou not eat and drink, fair lady?”
“Oh, no, I cannot eat nor drink.
What should I do with eating, sleeping,
When always the same thought I think?
My baby dies for lack of food,
What meat or drink can do me good?”
The ship close to the shore goes driving,
It turns and goes a-sailing, swinging,
And the fair lady goes a-singing:
“O sailor, sailing, always sailing,
Tell me how does the sea-wind blow?
Be it the South wind, be it the North wind,
To my mother I will go.”
“O my mother, my dear mother!
Wilt thou not come and ransom me?”
“O my daughter, my dear daughter,
Tell me what must thy ransom be?”
“Three gold lions, three gold falcons,
Four gold columns it must be.”
“I cannot part with so much money,
How much better to part with thee!”
“Wilt thou not eat and live, fair lady?
Wilt thou not sleep and do thee good?”
“Only one thought I 'm always thinking,
My little baby dies for food.”
Now close along the land they 're driving,
But the ship goes sailing, swinging,
And the fair lady goes a-singing:
“O sailor, sailing, always sailing,
Tell me how does the sea-wind blow?
Be it the South wind, be it the North wind,
To my brother I will go.”
“O my brother, my dear brother!
Wilt thou not come and ransom me?”
“O my sister, my dear sister,
Tell me, what must thy ransom be?”
“Three gold lions, three gold falcons,
Four gold columns it must be.”
“I cannot part with so much treasure,
How much better to part with thee!”
And now along the shore they 're driving,
But the ship goes sailing, swinging,
And the fair lady goes a-singing:
“O sailor, sailing, always sailing,
Tell me how does the sea-wind blow?
Be it Sirocco or Tramontana,
To my sister I will go.”
“O my sister, my dear sister!
Wilt thou not come and ransom me?”
“O my sister, my dear sister,
Tell me, what must thy ransom be?”
“Three gold lions, three gold falcons,
Four gold columns it must be.”
“I cannot part with so much treasure,
How much better to part with thee!”
“O sailor, sailing, always sailing,
Tell me how does the sea-wind blow?
Be it Sirocco or Tramontana,
To my husband I will go.”
“O my husband, my dear husband!
Wilt thou not come and ransom me?”
“O my lady, my dear lady,
Tell me, what must thy ransom be?”
“Three gold lions, three gold falcons,
Four gold columns it must be.”
“Better to part with all my treasure;
Enough that I never part from thee.”
. . . . . . .
And after three days were ended,
Her father was lying dead:
“Then let him die, and but little care I,
I will wear a gown all of red.”
And after three days were ended,
Her mother was lying dead:
“Oh, let her die, and what care I?
I will dress all in yellow,” she said.
And after three days were ended,
Her brother was lying dead:
“Oh, let him die, and what care I?
I will dress all in green,” she said.
And after three days were ended,
Her sister was lying dead:
“Oh, let her die, for what care I?
I will dress all in white,” she said.
“But if my own dear love were dead,
I should wear blackest black,” she said.