Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/126

 To self-will'd wisdom, vaunting its own strength Above omnipotence. 'Tis true my youth, Conceal'd in forest gloom, knew not the sound Of mass high-chaunted, nor with trembling lips I touch'd the mystic wafer: yet the Bird That to the matin ray prelusive pour'd His joyous song, methought did warble forth Sweeter thanksgiving to Religion's ear In his wild melody of happiness, Than ever rung along the high-arch'd roofs Of man. Yet never from the bending vine Pluck'd I its ripen'd clusters thanklessly, Of that good God unmindful, who bestow'd The bloodless banquet. Ye have told me, Sires, That Nature only teaches man to sin! If it be sin to seek the wounded lamb, To bind its wounds, and bathe them with my tears, This is what Nature taught! No, ! no, It is not Nature that can teach to sin: Nature is all Benevolence—all Love, "All