Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/233

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BOOK THE SEVENTH.
221
 But cowering now amid their sheltering fortsTremble the English host. Their leaders careIn anxious vigilance prepares to wardAssault expected. Nor the Maid's intent 35Did he not rightly areed: tho' vain the attemptTo kindle in their breasts the wonted flameOf valour; for by prodigies unmann'dThey wait the morning, or in silent dread,Or pouring out their fears in many a prayer. 40
 The morning came. The martial Maid arose.Lovely in arms she moved. Around the gateEager again for conquest throng the troops.High towered the Son of Orleans, in his strengthPoising the ponderous spear. His batter'd shield, 45Witnessing the fierce fray of yesternight,Hung on his sinewy arm."Maiden of Arc,Hail!" so to her approaching, cried the Chief."Well hast thou prov'd thy mission, as, by words

"And

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