Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/67

These are the fiends that o'er thy native land 260
Spread Guilt and Horror. Maid belov'd of Heaven!
Dar'st thou inspir'd by the holy flame of Love
Encounter such fell shapes, nor fear to meet
Their wrath, their wiles? O Maiden, dar'st thou die?

"Father of Heaven! I will not fear, she said 265
My arm is weak, but mighty is thy sword.

She spake and as she spake the trump was heard
That echoed ominous o'er the streets of Rome,
When the first Cæsar totter'd o'er the grave
By Freedom delv'd: the Trump, whose chilling blast 270
On Marathon and on Platæa's plain
Scatter'd the Persian. From his obscure haunt
Shriek'd Fear, the ghastliest of Ambition's throng,
Fev'rish yet freezing, eager paced, yet slow;
As she that creeps from forth her swampy reeds 275
Ague, the biform Hag! when early Spring
Beams on the marsh-bred vapours. "Lo! she goes!

"To