Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/319

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BOOK THE EIGHTH.
307
And break thy midnight rest, and tell thy beads,And labor thro' thy still repeated prayer; 865Fear thou thy God of Terrors; spurn the giftsHe gave, and sepulchre thyself alive!But far more valued is the vine that bendsBeneath its swelling clusters, than the darkAnd joyless ivy, round the cloister's wall 870Wreathing its barren arms. For me I know Mine own worth, Priest! that I have well perform'd My duty, and untrembling shall appear Before the just tribunal of that God, Whom grateful Love has taught me to adore!" 875
She said, and they departed from the dome.
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