Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/357

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BOOK THE NINTH.
345
She sat the Mistress of the Dome. Her face Spake that compos'd severity, that knows No angry impulse, no weak tenderness, Resolved, and calm. Before her lay that Book 585That hath the words of Life; and as she read, Sometimes a tear would trickle down her cheek, Tho' heavenly Joy beam'd in her eye the while.
Leaving her undisturb'd, to the first ward Of this great Lazar-house, the Angel led 590The favour'd Maid of Orleans. Kneeling down On the hard stone that their bare knees had worn, In sackcloth robed, a numerous train appear'd: Hard-featur'd some, and some demurely grave; Yet such expression stealing from the eye, 595As tho', that only naked, all the rest Was one close-fitting mask: a scoffing Fiend (For Fiend he was, tho' wisely serving here) Mock'd at his patients, and did often pour Ashes upon them, and then bid them say 600

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