The Captive
I sailed from Hamburg port one mom
Upon a bonny caravel.
’T was neither war nor peace at sea,
When pirate Moors upon us fell.
They took me as a slave to sell,
Unto their country of Salee,
But neither Moor nor Mussulman
Would give a silver groat for me.
’T was only a false Jewish dog,
Who wished to have me for his slave,
He made my life a bitter pain,
And beat me like a scurvy knave.
All day I wove esparto grass,
At night I turned the hard corn mill,
A wooden gag between my jaws
Lest of the meal I’d steal my fill.
But fortune brought me a kind dame,
Who pitied the sad life I led,
She sent me from her table rich
Fresh meat and wine and good white bread.
She gave me all things that I asked,
And something I asked not, as well,
Within Jewessa’s arms I wept,
But not for her the salt tears fell.
“Christian, you need not weep,” she said,
“I know your grief ere it is told.”
“But how can I my home regain
Without a single piece of gold?”
“H’t is to buy a horse you need,
I ’ll give to you my pretty mare,
You need not wait to find a ship,
But take the shallop anchored there.”
“Fair dame, ’t is not a horse will serve,
For far is Ceuta and Castille,