Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/288

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JOAN OF ARC.
And loved to see the dappled forestersBrowze fearless on their lair, with friendly eye,And happy in beholding happiness, 290Not meditating death: the bowman's artTherefore he little knew, nor was he wontTo aim the arrow at the distant foe,But uprear in close conflict, front to front,His death-red battle-axe, and break the shield, 295First in the war of men. There too the MaidAwaits, impatient on the wall to wieldHer falchion. Onward moves the heavy tower,Slow o'er the moat and steady, tho' the foeShowered there their javelins, aim'd their engines there, 300And from the arbalist the fire-tipt dartShot lightening thro' the air. In vain it flam'd,For well with many a reeking hide secured,Pass'd on the dreadful pile, and now it reach'dThe wall. Below, with forceful impulse driven, 305The iron-horned engine swings its stroke,Then back recoils, whilst they within who guide,

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