Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/106

 Rose to the distant view; imperial seat Of Charles, for Paris with her servile sons A headstrong mutable ferocious race, Bow'd to the invader's yoke, since that sad hour When Faction o'er her streets with giant stride Strode terrible, and Murder and Revenge, As by the midnight torches' lurid light They mark'd their mangled victims writhe convuls'd, Listen'd the deep death groan. Ill-fated scene! Thro' many a dark age drench'd with innocent blood, And one day doom'd to know the damning guilt Of murder'd, and the blameless wife Of ! Martyr'd patriots—spirits pure, Wept by the good ye fell! Yet still survives Sow'd