Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/163

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BOOK THE FOURTH
151
The all-creating Parent to destroyThe works he made. Proud tyranny to Man,To God foul insult! Mortify your pride;Be clad in sackcloth when the conqueror's carRolls o'er the field of blood.—Believe me, King, 500If thou didst know the untold miseryWhen from the bosom of domestic LoveBut one—one victim goes! if that thine heart Be human, it would bleed!"Her heart was full, And, pausing for a moment, she repress'd 505The unbidden anguish. "Lo! they croud around The standard! Thou Dunois the chosen troops Marshal in speed, for early with the dawnWe march to rescue Orleans from the foe."
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