Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/20

 From his bleak mountain and his den of snows Leaps terrible, and mocks the shepherd's spear." So spake the delegated Maid. Meantime From many a potent herb the juice she press'd Medicinal, and touch'd with lenient hand Each gaping wound, where life as loath to fly Sat trembling: not the plants Medea cull'd On Colchis' plain, nor those ingredients dire Erichtho mingled on Pharsalia's field, Making the soul retenant its cold corse, More potent; thro' his frame with force divine The subtle spirit ran, and every limb Fill'd with unwonted vigor; from the ground On nimble feet he sprang, and knelt, and spake. "O more