A princess bears seven deadly sins, and her story is told in fragments — red roses at her feet and hair, a slain knight in the reeds, a murdered page in gold cloth, black ravens circling. Blood flecks the lilies and stains the river sand; it’s on her hand. Four riders approach, but a single man who truly loves her digs a grave beneath a yew, one grave for all four. The sky and water are black, no moon reflects, and in that utter darkness the weight of her seven sins meets his one — perhaps murder, perhaps mercy. The speaker’s voice is hushed, almost chanting, as if witnessing a ritual or a confession. The mood is heavy with gothic dread, guilt, and a doomed, silent love. Every image — the red of roses and blood, the black of ravens and water — tightens a net of fate around the King’s daughter and the man who cannot save her, only bury her sins alongside his own.
Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring, — Summary
Seven stars in the still water, And seven in the sky; Seven sins on the King's daughter, Deep in her soul to lie.
Red roses are at her feet, (Roses are red in her red-gold hair) And O where her bosom and girdle meet Red roses are hidden there.
Fair is the knight who lieth slain Amid the rush and reed, See the lean fishes that are fain Upon dead men to feed.
Sweet is the page that lieth there, (Cloth of gold is goodly prey,) See the black ravens in the air, Black, O black as the night are they.
What do they there so stark and dead? (There is blood upon her hand) Why are the lilies flecked with red? (There is blood on the river sand.)
There are two that ride from the south and east, And two from the north and west, For the black raven a goodly feast, For the King's daughter rest.
There is one man who loves her true, (Red, O red, is the stain of gore!) He hath duggen a grave by the darksome yew, (One grave will do for four.)
No moon in the still heaven, In the black water none, The sins on her soul are seven, The sin upon his is one.