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JOAN OF ARC.
Some slaughtered friend? or lives the suffererWith many a sore wound gash'd? oh if he lives!I will with earnest prayer petition HeavenTo shed its healing on him!"So she said, 55And as she spake stretched forth her careful handsTo ease the burthen. "Warrior," he replied,"Thanks for thy proffered succour: but this manLives not, and I with unassisted armCan bear him to the sepulchre. Farewell— 60The night is far advanced; thou to the campReturn: it fits not darkling thus to stray."
"Conrade!" the Maid exclaim'd, for well she knewHis voice:—with that she fell upon his neckAnd cried, "My Theodore! but wherefore thus 65Thro' the dead midnight dost thou bear his corse?"
"Peace, Maiden!" Conrade cried, "collect thy soul!He is but gone before thee to that world

"Whither

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