Alas! sweet Maid! no hospitable gate
DE COURCI seeks;  welcome waits his steps:
To Eastern climes I bend my weary course;
—  the home which ends my progress.
There let me bear  woes. Instruct me, Lady!
That at the Holy Sepulchre your name
May animate my pray'rs; that there your griefs
May, sanctify'd, ascend the porch of heav'n,
And, in their stead, soft peace, and blooming joy,
Return into your breast. That duty pass'd,
My sword shall lend its vigour to the cause
— The sacred cause, which arms our Christian legions,
And drains our cities of their val'rous Knights.