Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/138

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JOAN OF ARC.
Coming solemnity: and far and wideSpread the strange tidings. Every labor ceas'd;The ploughman from the unfinish'd furrow hastes; 50The armourer's anvil beats no more the dinOf future slaughter. Thro' the thronging streetsThe buz of asking wonder hums along.
 On to St. Catherine's sacred fane they go; The holy fathers with the imag'd cross 55Leading the long procession. Next, as one Suppliant for mercy to the King of Kings, And grateful for the benefits of Heaven, The Monarch pass'd; and by his side the Maid; Her lovely limbs rob'd in a snow-white vest: 60Wistless that every eye dwelt on her form, With stately step she paced; her laboring soul To high thoughts elevate; and gazing round With the wild eye, that of the circling throng And of the visible world unseeing, saw 65The shapes of holy phantasy. By her

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