Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/330

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JOAN OF ARC.
And rusted trophies; and amid the heapSome monument's defaced legend spake,All human glory vain.The loud blast roar'dAmid the pile; and from the tower the owlScream'd as the tempest shook her secret nest. 90He, silent, led her on, and often paus'd,And pointed, that her eye might contemplateAt leisure the drear scene.He dragged her onThro' a low iron door, down broken stairs;Then a cold horror thro' the Maiden's frame 95Crept, for she stood amid a vault, and saw,By the sepulchral lamp's dim glaring light,The fragments of the dead."Look here!" he cried,"Damsel, look here! survey this house of Death;O soon to tenant it! soon to increase 100These trophies of mortality! for henceIs no return! Gaze here! behold this skull!

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