But had you worked your will,
Speak now the shame that you would have done
By the blockhouse on the hill!”
“God judge my men!” said the fair young soul;
“He knows you tried them sore.
Had He given me power to bide an hour
I had wrought that they forbore.
“I bade them, ere your bullet brought
This swift, this sweet release,
To bear your body out of the fire