Marko Kraljević and the Daughter of the Moorish King

Marko's mother asked a question:
"Ah, my son, Kraljević Marko,
Wherefore dost thou build so many pious buildings?
Hast thou sinned greatly against God?
Or doth gold come to thee without labour?"
Marko of Prilep answered her:
"I'faith, old mother mine,
Once that I was in the land of the Moors,
I arose early and went to the cistern
For to water my Sharatz.
And when I was come to the cistern,
Lo, twelve Moors were there.
And before my turn, mother,
I would have watered my Sharatz.
But the twelve Moors would not so,
And there was strife betwixt us.
I took my heavy mace,
And smote a black Moor,
I smote down one, and there smote me eleven;
I smote down two, and there smote me ten;
I smote down three, and there smote me nine;
I smote down four, and there smote me eight;
I smote down five, and there smote me seven;
I smote down six, and there smote me six;
And these six put me to the worse!
They bound my hands behind my back
And took me to the Moorish King.
The King cast me into the depths of a dungeon,
Where for seven years I languished.
I knew not when summer came,
Nor knew I when came winter,
Save by one token, mother.
In winter the damsels as they played at snowballs,
Would throw to me a snowball,
By that I knew that winter was come.
In summer they would throw me a spray of basil,
By that I knew that it was summer.
When the eighth year began,
It was not the prison that tormented me,
But a Moorish maiden,
Dear daughter of the Moorish King.
Morning and evening she would come,
And call to me through the dungeon window:
'Pine not away, unhappy Marko, in thy dungeon!
But give me thy solemn oath
That thou wilt take me to wife,
And I shall deliver thee out of prison,
And thy good Sharatz out of his stable.
I shall take of yellow ducats,
My poor Marko, as many as thou pleasest.'
When I considered of my evil plight,
I took off my cap and laid it on my knee,
And swore to the cap on my knee, saying:
'I take solemn oath I will not leave thee,
I take solemn oath I will not deceive thee.
The sun himself breaketh faith,
And warmeth not the earth in winter as in summer,
But never will I break mine oath!'
The Moorish maiden pondered this,
Thinking it was to her I swore.
On a night when darkness was come,
She opened the door of my dungeon,
She led me forth of the dungeon, mother,
She brought me the fiery Sharatz,
And for herself a better still than Sharatz,
And on both were saddle-bags full of ducats.
She brought me my rich-wrought sabre.
We mounted our horses,
And departed thence through the land of the Moors.
On a morning, as day dawned,
I sate me down to rest,
And the Moorish maiden took me,
Encircling me with her black arms,
And when I looked on her, mother,
On her black face and white teeth,
A loathing gat hold on me;
I drew the rich-wrought sabre,
And smote her on the silken girdle,
That the sabre cut clean through her.
I mounted my Sharatz,
And the head of the Moorish girl spake and said:
'Brother-in-God, Kraljević Marko!
Leave me not! Leave me not!'
Therein, mother, I sinned against God,
Gaining much gold thereby,
And for this cause I let build many pious buildings."