Alternate famine and carouse brought plague; but doubtless God allows
Expensive trials of faith that we might learn the magic formulæ.
We melted, melted; kites were fed upon us, dogs ran dripping red
From piles of nameless carrion, the race that Europe might have bred.
Throughout our ranks desertion raged by daily sermons unassuaged.
The preaching man was first in this "rope-dancing." Disillusion aged
My youth by years. My master stayed. If he had erred he promptly paid.
The pestilence ran after him. Despite the fervour I displayed
He died of sores, this prince of tilt, though guarded by ten hallowed charms,
This subject of all trouvère-lilt, lord in an hundred ladies' arms.