Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/182

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JOAN OF ARC.
The foe. The hollow chambers of the deadEchoed beneath. The brazen-trophied tombThrown in the furnace, now prepares to give 225The death it late recorded. It was sadTo see so wide a waste; the aged onesHanging their heads, and weeping as they wentO'er the fall'n dwellings of their happier years;The stern and sullen silence of the men 230Musing on vengeance: and but ill represtThe mother's fears as to her breast she clasp'dHer ill-doom'd infant. Soon the suburbs layOne ample ruin; the huge stones remov'd,Wait in the town to rain the storm of death." 235
 "And now without the walls the desolate plain Stretch'd wide, a rough and melancholy waste.With uptorn pavements and foundations deep Of many a ruined dwelling—horrid scene!Nor was within less drear. At evening hour 240No more the merry tabor's note was heard,

"No

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