And spite my tutor. I was mad to be a fighting-man, would pad
My arms like muscles. So my lord took me to foray. I was glad.
I had one thought: my hands were wet. That angered me: my mouth was dry.
I had one fear: I might forget my master's silly battle-cry.
Belike 'twas well no foe would stand—our cavaliers were out of hand—
So I was baulked. With scarce a blow we filed across the wasted land
For leagues, till Baldwin turned aside, and out of Peradventure carved
His slice, Edessa. We were plied to march on Antioch half-starved.
For seven months sheer courage toiled to take the town. Its ramparts foiled
Our engines. Sulkiness sat down within us, and temptation coiled