Had told her that the bold Gazul ordained that she should die;
And so she donned a Moor's attire, and put her own away,
And on the stroke of midnight from Xerez took her way.
And as she sighed, she sang aloud a melancholy strain;
"And who would wish to die," she said, "though death be free from pain?"
She rode a nimble palfrey and scarce could great Gazul
Excel the ardent spirit with which her heart was full.
Yet at every step her palfrey took, she turned her head for fear,
To see if following on her track some enemy were near.
And as she went, she sang aloud a melancholy strain;