Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/340

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JOAN OF ARC.
Of Virgin modesty, that thou shalt wish 270The earth might cover thee! in that last hour,When thy bruis'd breast shall heave beneath the chainsThat link thee to the stake; when o'er thy form,Exposed unmantled, the brute multitudeShall gaze, and thou shalt hear the ribald taunt, 275More painful than the circling flames that scorchEach quivering member; wilt thou not in vainThen wish my friendly aid? then wish thine earHad drank my words of comfort? that thy handHad grasp'd the dagger, and in death preserved 280Insulted modesty?"Her glowing cheekBlush'd crimson; her wide eye on vacancyWas fix'd; her breath short panted. The cold Fiend,Grasping her hand, exclaim'd, "Too-timid Maid,So long repugnant to the healing aid 285My friendship proffers, now shalt thou beholdThe allotted length of life."He stamp'd the earth,

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