Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/160

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JOAN OF ARC.
And oft returns, and oft importunateReclaims her empire. Wilt thou Charles, rejectThe suppliant angel? wilt thou thrust her from thee,Turning thine ear from her unheeded cries,To Riot's deaf'ning clamors? King of France! 455To thee elated, thus above mankindSubjected thousands gaze: they wait thy will,They wait thy will to quit their peaceful homes,To quit the comforts of domestic life,For the camp's dissonance, the clang of arms, 460The banquet of destruction. King of France,Glows not thy crimson cheek—sinks not thine heartAt the dread thought of thousands in thy cause,Mow'd by the giant scythe of Victory?Of widows weeping for their slaughter'd husbands? 465Of orphans groaning for their daily food?Oh that my voice in thunder might awakeThe monitor within thee! that thy soulMight, like Manoah's iron-sinewed son,Burst its base fetters!"

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