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Who came the saviour of the realm of France, When vanquish'd in the frequent field of shame, Her bravest warriors trembled.
JOAN the while
Foodless and silent to the Convent pass'd :
To hear, tho' listening to the dirge of death.
Then in the Priest arose the earnest hope,
of the world and sick with woe, The Maid might dwell with them a vestal vowed. “ Ah Damisel !" slow he spake and cross'd his breast, “ Ah Damsel ! favoured as thou art of Heaven, * Let not thy soul beneath its sorrow sink “ Despondent; Heaven by sorrow disciplines “ The froward heart, and chastens whom it loves ; “ Therefore, companion of thy way of life, " Amiction thee shall wean from this vain world, “ Where happiness provokcs the traveller's chase,
“ And like the midnight meteor of the marsh,
Beyond the night of life! thy race is run,
Thyself; accomplish all, and be the child “ Of God. Amid these sacred haunts the groan “ Of Woe is never heard ; these hallowed roofs • Re-echo only to the pealing quire, “ The chaunted mass, and Virgin's holy hymn, “ Celestial sounds ! secluded here, the soul “ Receives a foretaste of her joys to come! “ This is the abode of Piety and Peace : « Oh! be their inmate Maiden ! come to rest, “ Die to the world, and live espous'd to Heaven !"
Then Conrade answered, “ Father! Heaven has doom'd " This Maid to active virtue."
“ Active !" cried
The astonish'd Priest;
“ thou dost not know the toile
“ This holy warfare asks; thou dost not know
That, rebel to Devotion, faintly pours
“ And unborn pilgrims at tby hallowed shrine « Pour forth their pious offerings."
“ Hear me Priest!" Exclaim'd the awakened Maid; « amid these tombs, “ Cold as their clayey tenants, know, my
heart “ Must never grow to stone | chill thou thyself, “ And break thy midnight rest, and tell thy beads, “ And labour thro' thy still repeated prayer ; “ Fear thou thy God of Terrors; spurn the gifts " He gave, and sepulchre thyself alive! “ But far more valued is the vine that bends “ Beneath its swelling clusters, than the dark “ And joyless ivy, round the cloister's wall
Wreathing its barren arms. For me I know " Mine own worth, Priest ! that I have well performid “My duty, and untrembling shall appear “ Before the just tribunal of that God, “ Whom grateful Love has taught me to adore !"
Severe she spake, for sorrow in her heart