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JOAN OF ARC.
The mountain torrent flings precipitateIts bulk of waters, tho' amid the fallShattered, and dashing silvery from the rock.
Lo! on the bridge he stands, the undaunted man 330Conrade! the gathered foes along the wallThrong opposite, and on him point their pikes,Cresting with armed men the battlements.He, undismayed tho' on that perilous height,Stood firm, and hurl'd his javelin; the keen point 335Pierced thro' the destined victim, where his armJoin'd the broad breast: a wound that skilful careHaply had heal'd; but, him disabled nowFor farther service, the unpitying throngOf his tumultuous comrades from the wall 340Thrust headlong.Nor did Conrade cease to hurlHis deadly javelins fast, for well withinThe tower was stor'd with weapons, to the ChiefQuickly supplied: nor did the mission'd Maid

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