Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/58

 , of whose rushing wings the noise Is Tempest, when the unutterable Shape Speeds from the Mother of Death his destin'd way To snatch the murderer from his secret cell! Or if the Greenland Wizard in strange trance Pierces the untravell'd realms of ocean's bed (Where live the innocent, as far from cares As from the storms and overwhelming waves Dark-tumbling on the surface of the deep) Over the abysm even to that uttermost cave By mishap'd Prodigies beleager'd, such As Earth ne'er bred, nor Air, nor the upper Sea. There dwells the fury Form, whose unheard name With eager eye, pale cheek, suspended breath Unsleeping guards, worn out with fear . Lest