Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/62

 Admiring near. Revenge unwilling quits The mangled corse; and prodigal of death Next strode; his falchion yet unsheath'd Reeks from the wound, loose flow his long black locks, The wide roll of his eye is terrible, And each limb quivers. comes next, With savage smile grasping a widowed dove. And next beating her own swoln breast Rush'd at the call: and hideous form Gnawing her flesh, and tearing from her head The viper turn'd to bite: and wild With creeping flesh. his sullen arms Folded; aye muttering dark and half-form'd words Of dreadful import. Aged next Hugg'd to his heart his bags, and cast around (Unwilling tho' to lose the golden sight,) The fearful look. And fitful Anxious for misery came: and feverish Hot from the convent. Palsied fled on, And ever as he fled his ghastly eye Reverts.