Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/71

 And heal'd the recent harm of chill or blight, And nurs'd each plant that fair and virtuous grew. But soon a deep precursive sound moan'd hollow: Black rose the clouds, and now, (as in a dream) Their red'ning shapes transform'd to warrior hotss, Cours'd o'er the Sky, and battled in mid air. The Sea meantime his Billows darkest roll'd, And each stain'd wave dash'd on the shore a corse. Nor did not the large blood-drops fall from Heaven Portentous! while aloft were seen to float, His hideous features blended with the mist, The long black locks of. beheld, And o'er the plain with oft-reverted eye Fled, till a place of Tombs she reach'd, and there Within a ruin'd sepulchre obscure Found hiding-place. The delegated Maid Gaz'd thro' her tears, then in sad tones exclaim'd, "Thou mild-ey'd Form! wherefore ah! wherefore fled? The name of written on thy brow  "Resplen-