334
JOAN OF ARC.
Sunk deep, and palsied were his toothless jaws.
He, as he tottered on the open grave,
Look'd back, and call'd on one with earnest voice
For aid; yet never aid from him received 380
His fellow minister: all gravity
He was, a well-wigg'd form, and in his hand
A gold-topt cane, which ever to his lips,
In thought profound, he press'd: his lofty speech
With learned phrase abounded, such as fills 385
The astonish'd soul with awe: and oft his hand
Dire incantations drew, with magic drugs,
To fill the mystic phial, which who feels,
With griping pains opprest, shall toss and writhe,
Till Nature, wearied with disease, and sick 390
Of remedy, must yield the unequal strife.
Murder was there, well-vers'd in many a shape
To serve his shadowy King; or in the rags
Of ruffian poverty, or skill'd to drug
The bowl with death, or, hid beneath his cloak, 395
Sharp the stiletto for the mortal blow;
He, as he tottered on the open grave,
Look'd back, and call'd on one with earnest voice
For aid; yet never aid from him received 380
His fellow minister: all gravity
He was, a well-wigg'd form, and in his hand
A gold-topt cane, which ever to his lips,
In thought profound, he press'd: his lofty speech
With learned phrase abounded, such as fills 385
The astonish'd soul with awe: and oft his hand
Dire incantations drew, with magic drugs,
To fill the mystic phial, which who feels,
With griping pains opprest, shall toss and writhe,
Till Nature, wearied with disease, and sick 390
Of remedy, must yield the unequal strife.
Murder was there, well-vers'd in many a shape
To serve his shadowy King; or in the rags
Of ruffian poverty, or skill'd to drug
The bowl with death, or, hid beneath his cloak, 395
Sharp the stiletto for the mortal blow;
Now,
