266
JOAN OF ARC.
Shook the weak frame; now, the approaching hour, 125
When my emancipated soul shall burst
The cumberous fetters of mortality,
Wishful I contemplate. Conrade! my friend,
My wounded heart would feel another pang
Should'st thou forsake me!"
"JOAN!" the Chief replied, 130
"Along the weary pilgrimage of life
Together will we journey, and beguile
The dreary road, telling with what gay hopes,
We in the morning eyed the pleasant fields
Vision'd before; then wish that we had reach'd 135
The bower of rest!"
Thus communing they gain'd
The camp, yet hush'd in sleep; there separating,
Each in the post allotted, restless waits
The day-break.
Morning came: dim thro' the shade
The first rays glimmer; soon the brightening clouds 140
Drink the rich beam, and o'er the landscape spread
When my emancipated soul shall burst
The cumberous fetters of mortality,
Wishful I contemplate. Conrade! my friend,
My wounded heart would feel another pang
Should'st thou forsake me!"
"JOAN!" the Chief replied, 130
"Along the weary pilgrimage of life
Together will we journey, and beguile
The dreary road, telling with what gay hopes,
We in the morning eyed the pleasant fields
Vision'd before; then wish that we had reach'd 135
The bower of rest!"
Thus communing they gain'd
The camp, yet hush'd in sleep; there separating,
Each in the post allotted, restless waits
The day-break.
Morning came: dim thro' the shade
The first rays glimmer; soon the brightening clouds 140
Drink the rich beam, and o'er the landscape spread
The
