Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/383

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BOOK THE TENTH.
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She waved her hand, and Silence still'd the host.Then thus the mission'd Maid, "Fellows in arms!We must not speed to joyful victory,Whilst our unburied comrades, on yon plain,Allure the carrion bird. Give we this day 35To our dead friends!"Nor did she speak in vain;For as she spake the thirst of battle diesIn every breast, such awe and love pervadeThe listening troops. They o'er the corse-strewn plainSpeed to their sad employment: some dig deep 40The house of Death; some bear the lifeless load;One little troop search carefully around,If haply they might find surviving yetSome wounded wretches. As they labour thus,They mark far off the iron-blaze of arms; 45See distant standards waving on the air,And hear the clarion's clang. Then spake the MaidTo Conrade, and she bade him speed to viewThe coming army; or to meet their march

With

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