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JOAN OF ARC.
Lightly the time would pass. Return with me, I may not long be absent."So she spake. The Wanderer in half-uttered words express'd 90 Grateful assent. Art thou, astonish'd Maid,"That one tho' pow'rful is benevolent?In truth thou well mayest wonder!" Conrade cried."But little cause to love the mighty onesHas the low cottager! for with its shadeDoes Power, a barren death-dew-dropping tree,Blast ev'ry herb beneath its baleful boughs!Tell thou thy sufferings Isabel! RelateHow warr'd the chieftains, and the people died.The mission'd Virgin hath not heard thy woes, 100And pleasant to my ear the twice-told taleOf sorrow." Gazing on the martial Maid She read her wish and spake. "Of lowly lineNot distant far from Jenville, dwelt my sire.Two brethren form'd our family of love. 105

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