Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/34

 And of the woes that Man creates for Man He told. Then gazing round our peaceful cell, Here (he would cry) let Theodore remain, Till at the last his wasted lamp of life Gently go out." "Yet were not then the hours Devoid of sorrow; for our anxious eyes Beheld Bizardo waining to the tomb. In the full of years he sunk: his eyes grew dim, And on the bed of leaves his feeble frame Lay helpless. Patiently did he endure, In faith anticipating blessedness, Already more than Man in that dread hour When Man is meanest. His were the best joys The pious know, and his last prayer was praise. I saw him die: I saw the dews of Death Starting on his cold brow: I heard him then Pour out a blessing on me.—Son of Orleans! I would not wish to live to know that hour, When I could think upon a dear friend dead, And weep not. "Aching