Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/204

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JOAN OF ARC.
Murmuring along. The noise of coming feetAlarm'd him. Nearer drew the fearful sound 15As of pursuit—anon—the clash of arms!That instant rising o'er a broken cloudThe moon beams shone, where two with combined forcePrest on a single foe: he, warding stillTheir swords, retreated in the unequal fight, 20As he would make the city. Conrade shookHis long lance for the war, and strode along.Full in the breast of one with forceful armPlunged he the spear of death; and as, dismayedBy his fellow's fall, the other turn'd to fly, 25Hurl'd the red weapon reeking from the wound,And fix'd him to the plain. "Now haste we on,Frenchman!" he cried. On to the stream they speed,And plunging stemm'd with sinewy stroke the tide.Soon on the opposite shore arrived and safe. 30
 "Whence comest thou?" cried the Chief; "on what high chargeCommission'd?"

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