Robert Southey,
Joan of Arc (Southey) — Book the Fifth
(1796)
“ Now came the worst of ills, for Famine came! 445The provident hand deals out its scanty dole, Yielding so little a supply to life As but protracted death. The loathliest food Hunted with eager eye, and dainty deem'd.The dog is slain, that at his master's feet 450Howling with hunger lay. With jealous fear, Hating a rival's look, each man conceals His miserable meal. ”
