Joan of Arc, an epic poem, Volume 2

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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 236 - O'er whose black marble sides a dim drear light Struggled with darkness from the unfrequeut 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.
Page 265 - A lightless sulphur, chok'd 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...
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 264 - ... 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 136 - 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 212 - 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 task Is mine, — a glorious call. France looks to me For her deliverance." " Maiden, thou hast done Thy mission here...
Page 264 - From mortals' service, draws the various threads Of life in several lengths; to weary beds Of age extending some, whilst others in Their infancy are broke : some...
Page 189 - Semite cum cantico. Be gladde lordes, bothe more and lasse, For this hath ordeyned our stewarde, To chere you all this Christmasse, The Bore's heed with mustarde.
Page 164 - And here with leave bespoken to recite a grand fable, though dignified by our best poets : while Brutus, on a certain festival day solemnly kept on that shore, where he first landed...

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