Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/311

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BOOK THE EIGHTH.
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This Virgin forth, and gone before her path— 710Our brethren, vainly valiant, fall beneath them,Clogging with gore their weapons, or in the floodWhelm'd like the Egyptian tyrant's impious host,Mangled and swoln, their blackened carcasesToss on the tossing billows! We remain, 715For yet our rulers will pursue the war,We still remain to perish by the sword,Soon to appear before the throne of God,Lost, guilty wretches, hireling murderers,Uninjur'd, unprovok'd, who dared to risk 720The life his goodness gave us, on the chanceOf war, and in obedience to our Chiefs,Durst disobey our God."Then terror seized The troops and late repentance: and they thought The Spirits of the Mothers and their Babes, 725Famish'd at Rouen, sat on the clouds of night, Circling the forts, to hail with gloomy joy The hour of vengeance.

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