Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/374

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JOAN OF ARC.
Delights and awes the soul, a laurel wreath 900Restrain'd her tresses, and upon her breastThe snow-drop hung its head,[1] that seem'd to growSpontaneous, cold and fair: still by the maidLove went submiss, with eye more dangerousThan fancied basilisk to wound whoe'er 905Too bold approached, yet anxious would he readHer every rising wish, then only pleasedWhen pleasing. Hymning him the song was rais'd.
"Glory to thee whose vivifying powerPervades all Nature's universal frame! 910Glory to thee Creator Love! to thee,Parent of all the smiling Charities,That strew the thorny path of Life with flowers!Glory to thee Preserver! to thy praiseThe awakened Woodlands echo all the day 915

"Their

  1. ↑ Line 902. "The grave matron does not perceive how time has impaired her charms, but decks her faded bosom with the same snow-drop that seems to grow on the breast of the Virgin." P.H.
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