Joan of Arc, an epic poem, Volume 2

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Page 190 - ... me that am a king born, having both a king to my father and a queen to my mother.
Page 134 - Now the Maid Stood as prepared to speak, and waved her hand, And instant silence followed. " King of France !" She cried, " at Chinon, when my gifted eye Knew thee disguised, what inwardly the Spirit Prompted, I...
Page 188 - Scales horse having on his chafron, a long spear pike of steel; and as the two champions coped together, the same horse thrust his pike into the nostrils of the Bastard's horse, so that for very pain he mounted so high that he fell on the one side with his master...
Page 136 - I am a king, and fit it is That these should perish for me ! ' if thy realm Should, through the counsels of thy government, Be filled with woe, and in thy streets be heard The voice of mourning and the feeble cry Of asking hunger ; if at such a time Thou dost behold thy...
Page 239 - O'er whose black marble sides a dim, drear light Struggled with darkness from the unfrequent lamp. Enthroned around, the murderers of mankind, Monarchs, the great, the glorious, the august, Each bearing on his brow a crown of fire, Sat stern and silent. Nimrod, he was there, First king, the mighty hunter ; and that chief Who did belie his mother's fame, that so He might be called young Ammon. In this court...
Page 267 - A lightless sulphur, choked with smoky fogs Of an infected darkness: in this place Dwell many thousand thousand sundry sorts Of never-dying deaths: there damned souls Roar without pity; there are gluttons fed With toads and adders ; there is burning oil Poured down the drunkard's throat...
Page 150 - This fair Agnes had been five years in the service of the queen, during which she had enjoyed all the pleasures of life, in wearing rich clothes, furred robes, golden chains, and precious stones...
Page 238 - Ninirod, he was there, First king the mighty hunter ; and that chief Who did belie his mother's fame, that so He might be called young Ammon. In this court Caesar was crown'd, accurst liberticide; And he who murdered Tully, that cold villain, Octavius, tho...
Page 266 - ... pleasures : some in glittering pride Spun to adorn the earth, whilst others wear Rags of deformity, but knots of care No thread was wholly free from. Next to this Fair glorious tower, was placed that black abyss Of dreadful Atropos, the baleful seat Of death and...
Page 214 - I grant, were this life all ; Was there no morning to the tomb's long night ; If man did mingle with the senseless clod, Himself as senseless, — then wert thou indeed A wise and friendly comforter. But, fiend ! There is a morning to the tomb's long night, A dawn of glory, a reward in heaven, He shall not gain who never merited. If thou didst know the worth of one good deed In life's last hour, thou wouldst not bid me lose The precious privilege, while life endures, To do my Father's will. A mighty...

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