Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/277

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BOOK THE EIGHTH.
265
Pass with slow footsteps to the city gate.The obedient centinel at Conrade's voiceAdmits the midnight travellers; on they pass,Till in the neighbouring Abbey's porch arrived 110They rest the lifeless load.Loud rings the bell;The awakened porter turns the heavy door.To him the Virgin: "Father, from the slainOn yonder reeking field a dear-loved friendI bring to holy sepulture: chaunt ye 115The requiem to his soul: to-morrow eveWill I return, and in the narrow houseBehold him laid to rest." The father knewThe mission'd Maid, and humbly bow'd assent.
Now from the city, o'er the shadowy plain, 120Backward they bend their way. From silent thoughtsThe Maid awakeing cried, "There was a time,"When thinking on my closing hour of life,Tho' with resolved mind, some natural fears

"Shook

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