236
JOAN OF ARC.
He hung, and seized the spear; then in himself
Collected stood, and calm. Nor the English Knight
Remain'd unweapon'd: to have sped so ill,
Indignant, from behind he snatch'd a lance 305
And hurl'd with fiercer fury. Conrade lifts
The ponderous buckler. Thro' three iron folds
Pierced the keen point, there, innocent of ill
Unharming hung. He with forceful grasp,
Plucking the javelin forth, with mightier arm, 310
Launch'd on his foe. With wary bend, the foe
Shrunk from the flying death; yet not in vain
From that strong hand the fate-fraught weapon fled:
Full on the corselet of a meaner man
It fell, and pierced, there where the heaving lungs, 315
With purer air distended, to the heart
Roll back their purged tide: from the deep wound
The red blood gush'd: prone on the steps he fell,
And in the strong convulsive grasp of death
Grasp'd his long pike. Of unrecorded name 320
Died the mean man; yet did he leave behind
Collected stood, and calm. Nor the English Knight
Remain'd unweapon'd: to have sped so ill,
Indignant, from behind he snatch'd a lance 305
And hurl'd with fiercer fury. Conrade lifts
The ponderous buckler. Thro' three iron folds
Pierced the keen point, there, innocent of ill
Unharming hung. He with forceful grasp,
Plucking the javelin forth, with mightier arm, 310
Launch'd on his foe. With wary bend, the foe
Shrunk from the flying death; yet not in vain
From that strong hand the fate-fraught weapon fled:
Full on the corselet of a meaner man
It fell, and pierced, there where the heaving lungs, 315
With purer air distended, to the heart
Roll back their purged tide: from the deep wound
The red blood gush'd: prone on the steps he fell,
And in the strong convulsive grasp of death
Grasp'd his long pike. Of unrecorded name 320
Died the mean man; yet did he leave behind
One
