Page:Joan of Arc - Southey (1796).djvu/78

 With eager ear heard from the her tale Of early youth and Mission from on high. And now beneath the Horizon west'ring slow Had sunk the orb of Day: a milder Light Soften'd the scene, fading thro' every hue 'Till twilight's deep'ning mists o'ershadow'd all. The trav'llers wend, beguiling the long way With converse, 'till the dewy Damps of Night Rose round. Far off a glimm'ring taper's ray Gleam'd thro' the embowered gloom: to that they turn. An aged man came forth; his scant grey locks Waved on the night breeze. Time had written deep On his shrunk face the characters of age. Them louting low with rustic courtesy He welcom'd in, on the white-ember'd hearth Then heapt fresh fuel, and with friendly care Spread out the homely board: fatigued they eat The country cakes and quaff the nut-brown bowl.

"Strangers, your fare is homely," said their Host, " But