314
JOAN OF ARC.
Black clouds, driven fast before the stormy wind,
Swept shadowing; thro' their broken folds the moon
Struggled sometimes with transitory ray, 15
And made the moving darkness, visible.
And now arrived beside a fenny lake
She stands: amid its stagnate waters, hoarse
The thick sedge rustled to the gales of night,
And loud was heard the Bittern's mournful cry. 20
An age-worn bark receives the Maid, impell'd
By powers unseen; then did the moon display
Where thro' the crazy vessel's yawning side
Rush'd in the muddy wave: a female guides
And spreads the sail before the wind, that moan'd 25
As melancholy mournful to her ear,
As ever by the dungeon'd wretch was heard
Howling at evening round the embattled towers
Of that hell-house[1] of France, ere yet sublime
The Almighty people from their tyrant's hand 30
Dash'd down the iron rod.
Swept shadowing; thro' their broken folds the moon
Struggled sometimes with transitory ray, 15
And made the moving darkness, visible.
And now arrived beside a fenny lake
She stands: amid its stagnate waters, hoarse
The thick sedge rustled to the gales of night,
And loud was heard the Bittern's mournful cry. 20
An age-worn bark receives the Maid, impell'd
By powers unseen; then did the moon display
Where thro' the crazy vessel's yawning side
Rush'd in the muddy wave: a female guides
And spreads the sail before the wind, that moan'd 25
As melancholy mournful to her ear,
As ever by the dungeon'd wretch was heard
Howling at evening round the embattled towers
Of that hell-house[1] of France, ere yet sublime
The Almighty people from their tyrant's hand 30
Dash'd down the iron rod.
Intent
- ↑ Line 29. The Bastille.
