My master clasped a small, soiled glove, and promised deeds for love's sweet sake
That took my breath, as though his death would please The Burr. I lay awake
All night afraid to cry for fright. I tried my best to be full-grown,
A child now loth to be alone. My misery was all my own.
I well recall our knights' first charge. It was as though a loaded barge
Should seek to crush a dancing skiff. The foe was small, the plain was large.
Our men returned with horses spent. It seemed the Turkish cowards meant
To harry, not oppose. Sometimes we caught them full, and down they went.
Strange that within so short a space I felt the strong effects of grace!
The preaching man upon his ass called it a miracle. It was.