Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/259

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BOOK THE SEVENTH.
247
Shame! shame! that beaten Boy is here in arms,And ye will fly before the fugitives;Fly from a woman! from a frenzied girl!That with her empty mummeries, would blastYour courage; or if miracles she brings, 515Aid of the Devil! who is there among youFalse to his country—to his former fame—To me—your leader to the frequent field,The field of glory?"From the heartless hostA timid shout arose: then Talbot's cheek 520Grew red with indignation. "Earl!" he cried,Addressing him the Chief: "there is no hopeFrom these white-liver'd dastards; and this fortWill fall an easy conquest: it were wellTo reach the Tournelles, better fortified, 525Fit to endure long siege: the hope in viewTo reach a safer fortress, these our troopsShall better dare the battle."So he spake,

Wisely

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