For his amend I have no claim, If my flower of love he's had, I gave it, and he 's not to blame." He shut her in a dungeon tower, Which he with heavy stone blocks made, That the base Moors might never know That shame had touched a Jewish maid. Oh, mandolin, my mandolin, Rest silent hung upon the wall, My longing love across the sea Is borne away beyond recall. The Faithful Paladin has a more tragical ending for the captive. The ballad had its origin in the province of Algarve, but there are several variants in Portuguese as well as similar ballads in Spanish. Calderon has made the theme the subject of a drama under the title of The Constant Prince, relating to the captivity and sufferings of Don Fernando, heir to the throne of Portugal, who was captured by the Moors in 1438, THE FAITHFUL PALADIN. Adventured in a Moorish land, A paladin, heartstrong and brave, Fell into Miramolin's hands, To serve him as a captive slave. The Moorish king a daughter had, More white and fair than jasmine flower. Her eyes with sparkling light were glad, And youth and bloom her beauty's dower. To Safim as she looked one day Celima saw the captive knight, With pensive gaze turned far away, And sadness in his empty sight. The touch she felt within her heart She sought with shamefaced care to hide, None guessed the wound that gave the smart, Or heard her weeping when she cried. Since then her pastimes had no zest, Nor could she even peace regain, The longing love that filled her breast Grew every day a deeper pain. Upon the terrace hours and hours She sat and watched the slave below Dig at his task among the flowers, In summer sunshine's burning glow. At last her longing broke her pride, She told her passion on her knees. He silent stood, and only sighed For her he loved beyond the seas. Faithful and true to his fond love, It fenced his heart with triple shield, Not all Celima's charms could move A more than pitying grace to yield. "My gold and jewels shall be thine, If only you but wish it so, And with your freedom give me mine; Tell me, Christian, yes or no." "I wish no jewels from your hand, Or aught that may belong to thee, Some one will come from my far land, And for my ransom pay the fee." "Then let me be your humble slave To serve you wheresoe'er you go. No better fortune can I crave, Tell me, Christian, yes or no." "My humble slave you must not be, A better fortune is your due; How came your love to fix on me, Who have no heart to give to you?"