I think Alexius was wise to keep us out. Our hungry eyes
Fixed on his capital. Why go farther when here were rich supplies?
The Pope that cursed our tastes had laid the hand of blessing on this raid.
Blest chance indeed—as though a man should drink his fill and then be paid!
Each set to whet his falchion-pet that only friends had tasted yet.
We dressed our hopes in purple silk, wallowed in dreamland's wine and milk.
Yet more than any Sultan's spoil fair women should repay our toil.
Already some were filled with thoughts that our red cross was meant to foil.
The notion twinged us. We compared our prospects with the way we fared
On these lean suburbs and the flats about Barbyses. We were snared!