Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/343

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BOOK THE NINTH.
331
Or deeper sable died. Two Genii stood,Still as the web of Being was drawn forth, 325Sprinkling their powerful drops. From ebon urn,The one unsparing dash'd the bitter waveOf woe; and as he dash'd, his dark-brown browRelax'd to a hard smile. The milder formShed less profusely there his lesser store; 330Sometimes with tears increasing the scant boon,Mourning the lot of man; and happy heWho on his thread those precious drops receives;If it be happiness to have the pulseThrob fast with pity, and in such a world 335Of wretchedness, the generous heart that achesWith anguish at the sight of human woe!
To her the Fiend, well-hoping now success, "This is thy thread! observe how short the span, And see how copious yonder Genius pours 340The bitter stream of woe." The Maiden saw Fearless. "Now gaze!" "the tempter Fiend exclaim'd,

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