212
JOAN OF ARC.
Hears the wood echo, when from the fell beast
Escap'd, of some tall tree the topmost branch
He grasps close-clinging, still of that keen fang
Fearful, his teeth jar, and the big drops stand
On his cold quiv'ring limbs.
Nor now the Maid 380
Greedy of vengeance urges the pursuit.
She bids the trumpet of retreat resound;
A pleasant music to the routed ranks
Blows the loud blast. Obedient to its voice
The French, tho' eager on the invaders' heads 385
To wreak their wrath, stay the victorious sword.
Escap'd, of some tall tree the topmost branch
He grasps close-clinging, still of that keen fang
Fearful, his teeth jar, and the big drops stand
On his cold quiv'ring limbs.
Nor now the Maid 380
Greedy of vengeance urges the pursuit.
She bids the trumpet of retreat resound;
A pleasant music to the routed ranks
Blows the loud blast. Obedient to its voice
The French, tho' eager on the invaders' heads 385
To wreak their wrath, stay the victorious sword.
Loud is the cry of conquest as they turn
To Orleans. There what few to guard the town
Unwilling had remained, haste forth to meet
The triumph. Many a blazing torch they held 390
That rais'd aloft amid the midnight storm,
Flash'd far a festive light. The Maid advanced—
Deep thro' the sky the hollow thunders roll'd—
To Orleans. There what few to guard the town
Unwilling had remained, haste forth to meet
The triumph. Many a blazing torch they held 390
That rais'd aloft amid the midnight storm,
Flash'd far a festive light. The Maid advanced—
Deep thro' the sky the hollow thunders roll'd—
Innocuous
