Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/126

To self-will'd wisdom, vaunting its own strength
Above omnipotence. 'Tis true my youth, 420
Conceal'd in forest gloom, knew not the sound
Of mass high-chaunted, nor with trembling lips
I touch'd the mystic wafer: yet the Bird
That to the matin ray prelusive pour'd
His joyous song, methought did warble forth 425
Sweeter thanksgiving to Religion's ear
In his wild melody of happiness,
Than ever rung along the high-arch'd roofs
Of man. Yet never from the bending vine
Pluck'd I its ripen'd clusters thanklessly, 430
Of that good God unmindful, who bestow'd
The bloodless banquet. Ye have told me, Sires,
That Nature only teaches man to sin!
If it be sin to seek the wounded lamb,
To bind its wounds, and bathe them with my tears, 435
This is what Nature taught! No, Reverends! no,
It is not Nature that can teach to sin:
Nature is all Benevolence—all Love,

"All