Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/68

To Orleans lo! she goes—the Mission'd Maid!
The Victor Hosts wither beneath her arm!
And what are Crecy, Poictiers, Azincour280
But noisy echoes in the ear of Pride?"
Ambition heard and startled on his throne;
But strait a smile of savage joy illum'd
His grisly features, like the sheety Burst
Of Lightning o'er the awaken'd midnight clouds285
Wide-flash'd. For lo! a flaming pile reflects
Its red light fierce and gloomy on the face
Of Superstition and her goblin Son,
Loud-laughing Cruelty, who to the stake
A female fix'd, of bold and beauteous mien,290
Her snow-white Limbs by iron fetters bruis'd,
Her breast expos'd. JOAN saw, she saw and knew
Her perfect image. Nature thro' her frame
One pang shot shiv'ring; but, that frail pang soon
Dismiss'd, "Even so" (the exulting Maiden said)295
"The sainted Heralds of Good Tidings fell,
And thus they witness'd God! But now the Clouds

"Treading,