Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/318

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
306
JOAN OF ARC.
That grapple to society the heart 845Of social man? to rouse the unwilling spirit,That, rebel to Devotion, faintly poursThe cold lip-worship of the wearying prayer?To fear and tremble at him, yet to loveA God of Terrors? Maid, beloved of Heaven! 850Come to this sacred trial! share with usThe day of penance and the night of prayer!Humble thyself! feel thine own worthlessness,A reptile worm! before thy birth condemn'dTo all the horrors of thy Maker's wrath, 855The lot of fallen mankind! oh hither come!Humble thyself in ashes, so thy nameShall live amid the blessed host of saints,And unborn pilgrims at thy hallowed shrinePour forth their pious offerings.""Hear me Priest!" 860Exclaim'd the awakened Maid; "amid these tombs, Cold as their clayey tenants, know, my heart Must never grow to stone! chill thou thyself,

"And

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.