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JOAN OF ARC.
"Maid," the Spirit cried,"Here, robed in shadows, dwells Futurity.There is no eye hath seen her secret form,For round the Mother of Time, unpierced mistsAye hover. Would'st thou read the book of Fate, 785Enter."The Damsel for a moment paus'd,Then to the Angel spake: "All-gracious Heaven!Benignant in withholding, hath deniedTo man that knowledge. I, in faith assur'd,That he, my heavenly Father, for the best 790Ordaineth all things, in that faith remainContented.""Well and wisely hast thou said,"So Theodore replied; and as he spake,Seizing her hand (for Spirits have such powerThat there they are where they but wish to be, 800Swift as the thought that guides them) in a valeThey stood; a fairer spot industrious ManMade never, tho' in climes where Nature pours

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