BOOK THE TENTH.
403
That, mine inheritance." He paus'd awhile,
Struggling for utterance; then with breathless speed, 625
And pale as him he mourn'd for, Francis came,
And hung in silence o'er the blameless man,
Even with a brother's sorrow: he pursued,
"This JOAN will be thy care. I have at home
An aged mother—Francis, do thou soothe 630
Her childless age. Nay, weep not for me thus:
Sweet to the wretched is the Tomb's repose!"
Struggling for utterance; then with breathless speed, 625
And pale as him he mourn'd for, Francis came,
And hung in silence o'er the blameless man,
Even with a brother's sorrow: he pursued,
"This JOAN will be thy care. I have at home
An aged mother—Francis, do thou soothe 630
Her childless age. Nay, weep not for me thus:
Sweet to the wretched is the Tomb's repose!"
So saying Conrade drew the javelin forth,
And died without a groan.
By this the Scouts,
Forerunning the King's march, upon the plain 635
Of Patay had arrived, of late so gay
With marshall'd thousands in their radiant arms,
And streamer glittering in the noon-tide sun,
And blazon'd shields, and gay accoutrements,
The pageantry of murder: now defiled 640
With mingled dust and blood, and broken arms,
And died without a groan.
By this the Scouts,
Forerunning the King's march, upon the plain 635
Of Patay had arrived, of late so gay
With marshall'd thousands in their radiant arms,
And streamer glittering in the noon-tide sun,
And blazon'd shields, and gay accoutrements,
The pageantry of murder: now defiled 640
With mingled dust and blood, and broken arms,
And
