For all response in Chastel Blanc and towering Markab-of-the-Sea
Some clerkly knight in red-crossed white recited magic formulæ;
Then darkly hinted science, hell and I were leagued, because their spell
Would not or could not stave the blow that I foresaw. Edessa fell.
Curse our degenerate Poullains! The breed had need of spurs not reins.
To stand an empty sack upright was easier than to warm their veins
Save with amours. One night I knelt to pray; but on the battlement
Hard by a lordling twanged a harp. I smelt the bastard's eastern scent.
He thought his leman lay behind my casement, where the jasmin twined
And almost jingled.... Oh the woods at home and whitethroats calling blind!