Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/243

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BOOK THE SEVENTH.
231
He strode, on her resolved to wreak his rage, 205With her to end the war. Nor did not JOANRead his stern purpose. Lifting up her shieldPrepar'd she stood, and pois'd her sparkling spear.The English Chief came on; on high he rais'dHis mace, and all his might into one blow 210Collected. As the Maiden rear'd her shield,Before her rush'd the man of lowly line,And on his buckler caught the mighty stroke,And at that instant thro' the warrior's neckThrust the keen lance. Prone fell the English Knight. 215Fast from the deadly wound the blood gush'd forth.Then thro' the host contagious terror ran,Their Chieftain slain. And lo! where on the wallBulwark'd of late by Gladdisdale so wellThe son of Orleans stood, and swayed around 220His falchion, keeping thus at bay the foe,Till on the battlements his comrades sprang,And rais'd the shout of conquest. Then appall'dThe English fled; nor fled they unpursued,

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