Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/307

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
BOOK THE EIGHTH.
295
I am, to spare the fallen: that gracious GodSends me the minister of mercy forth, 640Sends me to save this ravaged realm of France.To England friendly as to all the world,Foe only to the great blood-guilty ones,The masters and the murderers of mankind."
 She said, and suddenly threw off her helm; 645Her breast heaved high—her cheek grew red—herFlash'd forth a wilder lustre. "Thou dost deemThat I have illy spar'd so large a band,Disabling from pursuit our weakened troops—God is with us!" she cried—"God is with us! 650Our Champion manifest!"Even as she spake,The tower, the bridge, and all its multitudes,Sunk with a mighty crash.AstonishmentSeized on the French—an universal cryOf terror burst from them. Crush'd in the fall, 655

Or

This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.