Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/418

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JOAN OF ARC.
And fix'd it on the altar, whilst her handPour'd on the Monarch's head the mystic oil,Wafted of yore by milk-white Dove from Heaven,(So legends say) to Clovis, when he stoodAt Rheims for baptism; dubious since that day, 685When Tolbiac plain reek'd with his warrior's blood,And fierce upon their flight the Alemanni prest,And rear'd the shout of triumph; in that hourClovis invok'd aloud the Christian God,And conquer'd: wak'd to wonder thus, the Chief 690Became Love's convert, and Clotilda ledHer husband to the font.The Mission'd MaidThen placed on Charles's brow the Crown of France,And back retiring, gazed upon the KingOne moment, quickly scanning all the past, 695Till in a tumult of wild wondermentShe wept aloud. The assembled multitudeIn awful stillness witness'd: then at once,As with a tempest-rushing noise of winds,

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