At Carcassonne he fell. And there
My babes died famished. And despair
And hell were mine within their prison,
Till Mother of our God portrayed
This Mountfort's death. On me were laid
Blessed hands of power in a vision.
A call, my soul could not refuse,
Compelled me to besieged Thoulouse.
V
No arrow mine, no arbalist;
A sling, a stone, a woman's wrist
God and His virgin Mother aided.--
Their engines rocked our walls. I felt
The time had come and, praying, knelt;
Then, from the sling my hair had braided,
Launched at De Mountfort's bassinet
The rock where eyebrow eyebrow met.