210
JOAN OF ARC.
Resistless down the mountain rolls along,
Till at the brink of giddy precipice
Arrived, with deaf'ning clamor down it falls: 340
Thus borne along, the affrighted English troops
Driven by the force behind them, plunge amid
The liquid death. Then rose the dreadful cries
More dreadful, and the dash of breaking waves
That to the passing lightning as they broke 345
Gleam'd horrible.
Nor of the host so late
Triumphing in the pride of victory,
And swoln with confidence, had now escap'd
One wretched remnant, had not Talbot's mind,
Slow as he mov'd unwilling from the war, 350
What most might profit the defeated ranks,
Pondered. He reaching safe the massy fort
By St. John's name made holy, kindled up
The guiding fire. Not unobserved it blaz'd;
The watchful guards on Tournelles, and the pile 355
Of that proud city, in remembrance fond
Till at the brink of giddy precipice
Arrived, with deaf'ning clamor down it falls: 340
Thus borne along, the affrighted English troops
Driven by the force behind them, plunge amid
The liquid death. Then rose the dreadful cries
More dreadful, and the dash of breaking waves
That to the passing lightning as they broke 345
Gleam'd horrible.
Nor of the host so late
Triumphing in the pride of victory,
And swoln with confidence, had now escap'd
One wretched remnant, had not Talbot's mind,
Slow as he mov'd unwilling from the war, 350
What most might profit the defeated ranks,
Pondered. He reaching safe the massy fort
By St. John's name made holy, kindled up
The guiding fire. Not unobserved it blaz'd;
The watchful guards on Tournelles, and the pile 355
Of that proud city, in remembrance fond
Call'd
