Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/375

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BOOK THE NINTH.
363
Their living melody; and warbling forthTo thee her twilight song, the NightingaleHolds the lone Traveller from his way, or charmsThe listening Poet's ear. Where Love shall deignTo fix his seat, there blameless Pleasure sheds 920Her roseate dews; Content will sojourn there,And Happiness behold Affection's eyeGleam with the Mother's smile. Thrice happy heWho feels thy holy power! he shall not drag,Forlorn and friendless, along Life's long path 925To Age's drear abode; he shall not wasteThe bitter evening of his days unsooth'd;But Hope shall cheer his hours of Solitude,And Vice shall vainly strive to wound his breast,That bears that talisman; and when he meets 930The eloquent eye of Tenderness, and hearsThe bosom-thrilling music of her voice;The joy he feels shall purify his Soul,And imp it for anticipated Heaven."
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