BOOK THE SEVENTH.
221
But cowering now amid their sheltering forts
Tremble the English host. Their leaders care
In anxious vigilance prepares to ward
Assault expected. Nor the Maid's intent 35
Did he not rightly areed: tho' vain the attempt
To kindle in their breasts the wonted flame
Of valour; for by prodigies unmann'd
They wait the morning, or in silent dread,
Or pouring out their fears in many a prayer. 40
Tremble the English host. Their leaders care
In anxious vigilance prepares to ward
Assault expected. Nor the Maid's intent 35
Did he not rightly areed: tho' vain the attempt
To kindle in their breasts the wonted flame
Of valour; for by prodigies unmann'd
They wait the morning, or in silent dread,
Or pouring out their fears in many a prayer. 40
The morning came. The martial Maid arose.
Lovely in arms she moved. Around the gate
Eager again for conquest throng the troops.
High towered the Son of Orleans, in his strength
Poising the ponderous spear. His batter'd shield, 45
Witnessing the fierce fray of yesternight,
Hung on his sinewy arm.
"Maiden of Arc,
Hail!" so to her approaching, cried the Chief.
"Well hast thou prov'd thy mission, as, by words
Lovely in arms she moved. Around the gate
Eager again for conquest throng the troops.
High towered the Son of Orleans, in his strength
Poising the ponderous spear. His batter'd shield, 45
Witnessing the fierce fray of yesternight,
Hung on his sinewy arm.
"Maiden of Arc,
Hail!" so to her approaching, cried the Chief.
"Well hast thou prov'd thy mission, as, by words
"And
