BOOK THE FOURTH
141
Till lost in distance. With a weight of thought
Opprest, along the poplar-planted Vienne
Then wander'd, till o'erwearied on the banks 235
She laid her down, and watch'd its slowest stream
Dim purpling to the clouds, that still were pierc'd
By the sunk day-star's ray. The murmuring tide
Lull'd her, and many a pensive pleasing dream
Rose in sad shadowy trains at Memory's call. 330
She thought of Arc, and of the dingled brook,
Whose waves oft leaping on their craggy course
Made dance the low-hung willow's dripping twigs;
And where it spread into a glassy lake,
Of that old oak, which on the smooth expanse 335
Imaged its hoary mossy-mantled boughs.
Wak'd by the thought, a tear ran down her cheek
Unconscious, when a voice behind address'd her,
"Forgive the intrusion, Lady! I would ask
Where I might meet that Heaven-commission'd Maid, 340
Call'd to deliver France.'
The well-known tones
Opprest, along the poplar-planted Vienne
Then wander'd, till o'erwearied on the banks 235
She laid her down, and watch'd its slowest stream
Dim purpling to the clouds, that still were pierc'd
By the sunk day-star's ray. The murmuring tide
Lull'd her, and many a pensive pleasing dream
Rose in sad shadowy trains at Memory's call. 330
She thought of Arc, and of the dingled brook,
Whose waves oft leaping on their craggy course
Made dance the low-hung willow's dripping twigs;
And where it spread into a glassy lake,
Of that old oak, which on the smooth expanse 335
Imaged its hoary mossy-mantled boughs.
Wak'd by the thought, a tear ran down her cheek
Unconscious, when a voice behind address'd her,
"Forgive the intrusion, Lady! I would ask
Where I might meet that Heaven-commission'd Maid, 340
Call'd to deliver France.'
The well-known tones
Thrill'd
