Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/415

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BOOK THE TENTH.
403
That, mine inheritance." He paus'd awhile,Struggling for utterance; then with breathless speed, 625And pale as him he mourn'd for, Francis came,And hung in silence o'er the blameless man,Even with a brother's sorrow: he pursued,"This JOAN will be thy care. I have at homeAn aged mother—Francis, do thou soothe 630Her childless age. Nay, weep not for me thus:Sweet to the wretched is the Tomb's repose!"
So saying Conrade drew the javelin forth,And died without a groan.By this the Scouts,Forerunning the King's march, upon the plain 635Of Patay had arrived, of late so gayWith marshall'd thousands in their radiant arms,And streamer glittering in the noon-tide sun,And blazon'd shields, and gay accoutrements,The pageantry of murder: now defiled 640With mingled dust and blood, and broken arms,

And

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