Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/137

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BOOK THE FOURTH
125
Wielding so fearfully his blood-red sword, 30His eye so fury-fired, that the pale foeLet fall their palsied arms with powerless stroke,Desperate of safety. I do marvel muchThat he is here. Orleans must be hard press'dWhen one the bravest of her garrison 35Is thus commission'd."Swift the Maid exclaim'd, "I tell thee Chief, that there the English wolves Shall never pour their yells of victory.The will of God defends those fated walls, And resting in full faith on that high will 40I mock their efforts. But the night draws on; Retire we to repose. To-morrow's sun Breaking the darkness of the sepulchre, Shall on that armor gleam, thro' many an ageKept holy and inviolate by time." 45She said, and rising from the board, retired.
 Meantime the herald's brazen voice proclaimed

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