She travelled through many lands and saw many cities, and went through many hardships before she got to the town where the heathen king lived. When she got there she walked all round the palace and at the back she saw the prison. Then she went into the great court in front of the palace, and taking her lute in her hand, she began to play so beautifully that one felt as though one could never hear enough. After she had played for some time she began to sing, and her voice was sweeter than the lark’s: ‘I come from my own country far Into this foreign land, Of all I own I take alone My sweet lute in my hand. ‘Oh! who will thank me for my song, Reward my simple lay? Like lover’s sighs it still shall rise To greet thee day by day. ‘I sing of blooming flowers Made sweet by sun and rain; Of all the bliss of love’s first kiss, And parting’s cruel pain. ‘Of the sad captive’s longing Within his prison wall, Of hearts that sigh when none are nigh To answer to their call. ‘My song begs for your pity, And gifts from out your store, And as I play my gentle lay I linger near your door. ‘And if you hear my singing Within your palace, sire, Oh! give, I pray, this happy day, To me my heart’s desire.’ No sooner had the heathen king heard this touching song sung by such a lovely voice, than he had the singer brought before him. ‘Welcome, O lute player,’ said he. ‘Where do you come from?’ ‘My country, sire, is far away across many seas. For years I have been wandering about the world and gaining my living by my music.’ ‘Stay here then a few days, and when you wish to leave I will give you what you ask for in your song--your heart’s desire.’ So the lute player stayed on in the palace and sang and played almost all day long to the king, who could never tire of listening and almost forgot to eat or drink or to torment people. He cared for nothing but the music, and nodded his head as he declared, ‘That’s something like playing and singing. It makes me feel as if some gentle hand had lifted every care and sorrow from me.’ After three days the lute player came to take leave of the king. ‘Well,’ said the king, ‘what do you desire as your reward?’ ‘Sire, give me one of your prisoners. You have so many in your prison, and I should be glad of a companion on my journeys. When I hear his happy voice as I travel along I shall think of you and thank you.’ ‘Come along then,’ said the king, ‘choose whom you will.’ And he took the lute player through the prison himself. The queen walked about amongst the prisoners, and at length she picked out her husband and took him with her on her journey. They were long on their way, but he never found out who she was, and she led him nearer and nearer to his own country. When they reached the frontier the prisoner said: