I heard the stones fly whizzing by mine ears,
(What longer kept in mind than got in fears?)
I heard them fall, and saw what work they made. 
And how old Mors did cover with his shade
The face of Mansoul; and I heard her cry,
‘Woe worth the day, in dying I shall die!’
I saw the battering-rams, and how they play’d
To beat open Ear-gate; and I was afraid
Not only Ear-gate, but the very town
Would by those battering-rams be beaten down. 
I saw the fights, and heard the captains shout,
And in each battle saw who faced about;
I saw who wounded were, and who were slain;
And who, when dead, would come to life again. 
I heard the cries of those that wounded were,
(While others fought like men bereft of fear,)
And while the cry, ‘Kill, kill,’ was in mine ears,
The gutters ran, not so with blood as tears. 
Indeed, the captains did not always fight,
But then they would molest us day and night;
Their cry, ‘Up, fall on, let us take the town,’
Kept us from sleeping, or from lying down. 
I was there when the gates were broken ope,
And saw how Mansoul then was stripp’d of hope;
I saw the captains march into the town,
How there they fought, and did their foes cut down. 
I heard the Prince bid Boanerges go
Up to the castle, and there seize his foe;
And saw him and his fellows bring him down,
In chains of great contempt quite through the town. 
I saw Emmanuel, when he possess’d
His town of Mansoul; and how greatly blest
A town his gallant town of Mansoul was,
When she received his pardon, loved his laws. 
When the Diabolonians were caught,
When tried, and when to execution brought,
Then I was there; yea, I was standing by
When Mansoul did the rebels crucify. 
I also saw Mansoul clad all in white,
I heard her Prince call her his heart’s delight. 
I saw him put upon her chains of gold,
And rings, and bracelets, goodly to behold. 
What shall I say?  I heard the people’s cries,
And saw the Prince wipe tears from Mansoul’s eyes. 
And heard the groans, and saw the joy of many: 
Tell you of all, I neither will, nor can I.
But by what here I say, you well may see
That Mansoul’s matchless wars no fables be. 
Mansoul, the desire of both princes was: 
One keep his gain would, t’other gain his loss. 
Diabolus would cry, ‘The town is mine!’
Emmanuel would plead a right divine
Unto his Mansoul:  then to blows they go,
And Mansoul cries, ‘These wars will me undo.’ 
Mansoul! her wars seemed endless in her eyes;
She’s lost by one, becomes another’s prize: 
And he again that lost her last would swear,
‘Have her I will, or her in pieces tear.’ 
Mansoul! it was the very seat of war;
Wherefore her troubles greater were by far
Than only where the noise of war is heard,
Or where the shaking of a sword is fear’d;
Or only where small skirmishes are fought,