(Breton)
Seven stars in the still water,
Seven sins on the King’s daughter,
Red roses are at her feet,
And O where her bosom and girdle meet
Fair is the knight who lieth slain
See the lean fishes that are fain
Sweet is the page that lieth there,
See the black ravens in the air,
What do they there so stark and dead?
Why are the lilies flecked with red?
There are two that ride from the south and east,
For the black raven a goodly feast,
There is one man who loves her true,
He hath duggen a grave by the darksome yew,
No moon in the still heaven,
The sins on her soul are seven,