Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/255

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BOOK THE SEVENTH.
243
Pour'd one upbraiding—but to stoop to him! A harlot!—an adulteress!"In his eye Red anger flash'd; anon of what she was Ere yet the foul pollution of the CourtStain'd her fair fame, he thought. "Oh happy age!" 440He cried, "when all the family of man Freely enjoyed the goodly earth he gave, And only bow'd the knee in prayer to God!Calm flow'd the unruffled stream of years along, Till o'er the peaceful rustic's head, grew grey 445The hairs in full of time. Then he would sitBeneath the coetaneous oak, whilst round, Sons, grandsons, and their offspring join'd to form The blameless merriment; and learnt of himWhat time to yoke the oxen to the plough, 450What hollow moanings of the western wind Foretel the storm, and in what lurid clouds The embryo lightning lies. Well-pleas'd, he taught,The heart-smile glowing on his aged cheek,

"Mild

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