The moat was wide; we feebly tried to stop its gape with pebbles, cried
"Fall, Jericho!" The blessèd wall stood firm; but Christ was on our side.
The Church had saved Him from His wan repute and thrust Him in our van,
Bronzed, scarred. Alas, the first crusade had made Him out a fighting man!
He taught the Turks to mock Giaours!... sent timely Genoese to build
Wheeled wooden turrets. These we filled brimful. Jerusalem was ours.
We entered reverent, barefoot; slew three livelong nights and mornings through,
Then paused to sing a thanksgiving. We massacred the morrow too.
And I was glad a Christian lad could boast of some small suffering ad
Majorem Dei gloriam. I only longed to burn Baghdad.