Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/305

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BOOK THE EIGHTH.
293
Rashly abandoned, for now wheeling roundThe son of Orleans fought. All captainless,Ill-marshall'd, ill-directed, in vain rage,They waste their furious efforts, falling fast 605Before the Maid's good falchion and the swordOf Conrade: loud was heard the mingled soundOf arms and men; the earth, that trampled lateBy multitudes, gave to the passing windIts dusty clouds, now reek'd with their hot gore. 610
High on the fort's far-summit Talbot mark'd The fight, and call'd impatient for his arms, Eager to rush to war; and scarce withheld, For now, disheartened and discomfited, The troops fled fearful.On the bridge there stood 615A strong-built tower, commanding o'er the Loire. The traveller, sometimes lingered on his way, Marking the playful tenants of the stream, Seen in its shadow, stem the sea-ward tide.

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