126
JOAN OF ARC.
Coming solemnity: and far and wide
Spread the strange tidings. Every labor ceas'd;
The ploughman from the unfinish'd furrow hastes; 50
The armourer's anvil beats no more the din
Of future slaughter. Thro' the thronging streets
The buz of asking wonder hums along.
Spread the strange tidings. Every labor ceas'd;
The ploughman from the unfinish'd furrow hastes; 50
The armourer's anvil beats no more the din
Of future slaughter. Thro' the thronging streets
The buz of asking wonder hums along.
On to St. Catherine's sacred fane they go;
The holy fathers with the imag'd cross 55
Leading the long procession. Next, as one
Suppliant for mercy to the King of Kings,
And grateful for the benefits of Heaven,
The Monarch pass'd; and by his side the Maid;
Her lovely limbs rob'd in a snow-white vest: 60
Wistless that every eye dwelt on her form,
With stately step she paced; her laboring soul
To high thoughts elevate; and gazing round
With the wild eye, that of the circling throng
And of the visible world unseeing, saw 65
The shapes of holy phantasy. By her
The holy fathers with the imag'd cross 55
Leading the long procession. Next, as one
Suppliant for mercy to the King of Kings,
And grateful for the benefits of Heaven,
The Monarch pass'd; and by his side the Maid;
Her lovely limbs rob'd in a snow-white vest: 60
Wistless that every eye dwelt on her form,
With stately step she paced; her laboring soul
To high thoughts elevate; and gazing round
With the wild eye, that of the circling throng
And of the visible world unseeing, saw 65
The shapes of holy phantasy. By her
The
