And stood immobilized at noon. We wondered if at Ajalon The Jews thanked Joshua for the boon of this divine phenomenon. We came to Nice and formed a siege with tortoise, belfry, catapult, And curse that brought even less result. Each lordling quarrelled with his liege, Layman with priest, until the place surrendered, and again we lurched Forward. I heard our name was made. I only saw how it was smirched. My master clasped a small, soiled glove, and promised deeds for love's sweet sake That took my breath, as though his death would please The Burr. I lay awake All night afraid to cry for fright. I tried my best to be full-grown, A child now loth to be alone. My misery was all my own. I well recall our knights' first charge. It was as though a loaded barge Should seek to crush a dancing skiff. The foe was small, the plain was large. Our men returned with horses spent. It seemed the Turkish cowards meant To harry, not oppose. Sometimes we caught them full, and down they went. Strange that within so short a space I felt the strong effects of grace! The preaching man upon his ass called it a miracle. It was. I, polishing my master's helmet, also longed to overwhelm The miscreants, to hew in bits the devil and his earthly realm. A boy's high spirits, weariness, a heart impulsive as the Rhone, The wish to get this business done, the thought of little Sunflower-tress-- A flower beside The Burr, and "Why, if knights sing rubbish, should not I?"-- The preaching man's persistence, these stirred me to action by degrees. We had our fill at Dorylæum. Our rogues were Paladins. We won, And weighed our booty by the ton. That night we chanted a Te Deum, A myriad voices in the dark; they rose like one colossal lark Ere dawn. My soul flew up with them to see the new Jerusalem 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.