316
JOAN OF ARC.
Withering with age, branched there its naked roots,
And there the melancholy Cypress rear'd 50
Its head: the earth was heaved with many a mound,
And here and there a half-demolish'd tomb.
And there the melancholy Cypress rear'd 50
Its head: the earth was heaved with many a mound,
And here and there a half-demolish'd tomb.
And now, amid the ruin's darkest shade,
The Virgin's eye beheld where pale blue flames
Rose wavering, now just gleaming from the earth, 55
And now in darkness drown'd. An aged Man
Sat near, seated on what in long-past days
Had been some sculptured monument, now fall'n
And half-obscur'd by moss, and gathered heaps
Of withered yew-leaves and earth-mouldering bones: 60
And shining in the ray was seen the track
Of slimy snail obscene. Composed his look,
His eye was large and ray less, and fix'd full
Upon the Maid; the blue flames on his face
Stream'd a drear light; his face was of the hue 65
Of death: his limbs were mantled in a shroud.
The Virgin's eye beheld where pale blue flames
Rose wavering, now just gleaming from the earth, 55
And now in darkness drown'd. An aged Man
Sat near, seated on what in long-past days
Had been some sculptured monument, now fall'n
And half-obscur'd by moss, and gathered heaps
Of withered yew-leaves and earth-mouldering bones: 60
And shining in the ray was seen the track
Of slimy snail obscene. Composed his look,
His eye was large and ray less, and fix'd full
Upon the Maid; the blue flames on his face
Stream'd a drear light; his face was of the hue 65
Of death: his limbs were mantled in a shroud.
Then
