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University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


Gift  of 


ROBERT  PALFREY  UTTER 


JOAN  OF  ARC, 

AN 

EPIC    POEM, 

BY 

ROBERT     SOUTHEK 

IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
THIRD  EDITION,  CORRECTED. 


3tan  of  Sto, 


ftp 


3K,o6ert  ^outyty. 


Mis  oiuvos  oc^kttos  »{ji,vvsa-9xj  migi  vxr^s  • 

OMHP02. 


THE  SECOND  VOLUME. 


LONDON: 


PRINTED  FOR  LONGMAN,  HURST,  REES?  AND  ORME, 
PATERNOSTER-ROW. 

1806. 


Ut  homines,  ita  libros,  indies  seipsis  meliores  fieri  oportet. 

ERASMUS. 


Printed  by  BIGGS  and  Co.  Crane-Court, Fleet-Street ; 


CONTENTS. 


Book     6 5 

Book     7 23 

Book     8 85 

Book     9 137 

Book  10 165 

The  Vision  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  •< 223 


JOAN  of  ARC, 


THE  SIXTH  BOOK. 


The  night  was  calm,  and  many  a  moving  cloud 
Shadowed  the  moon.     Along  the  forest  glade 
With  swift  foot  Conrade  past,  and  now  had  reach'd 
The  plain,  where  whilome  by  the  pleasant  Loire, 
Cheer' d  with  the  song,  the  rustics  had  beheld 
The  day  go  down  upon  their  merriment : 
No  song  of  Peace  now  echoed  on  its  banks, 
There  tents  were  pitched,  and  there  the  centinel, 
Slow  pacing  on  his  sullen  rounds,  beheld 
The  frequent  corse  roll  down  the  tainted  stream. 
Conrade  with  wider  sweep  pursued  his  way, 
Shunning  the  camp,  now  hush'd  in  sleep  and  still , 
And  now  no  sound  was  heard  save  of  the  Loire, 
yol»  n.  B 


VI.     6 

Murmuring  along.     The  noise  of  coming  feet 

Alarm'd  him ;  nearer  drew  the  fearful  sound 

As  of  pursuit ;  anon — the  clash  of  arms ! 

That  instant  rising  o'er  a  broken  cloud 

The  moon  beams  shone,  where  two  with  combined  force 

Prest  on  a  single  foe ;  he,  warding  still 

Their  swords,  retreated  in  the  unequal  fight, 

As  he  would  make  the  city.     Conrade  shook 

His  long  lance  for  the  war,  and  strode  along. 

Full  in  the  breast  of  one  with  forceful  arm 

Plunged  he  the  spear  of  death  j  and  as,  dismayed 

The  other  fled,  '*'.  now  haste  we  to  the  gates, 

ft  Frenchman !"  he  cried.  On  to  the  stream  they  speed, 

And  plunging  stemm'd  with  sinewy  stroke  the  tide, 

Soon  on  the  opposite  shore  arrived  and  safe. 

"  Whence  art  thou  r"  cried  the  Warrior  5  "  on  what 

"  charge 
*'  Commission^  l" 

« Is  it  not  the  voice  of  Conrade  V9 


VI.    7 

Francis  exclaim'd  5  "  and  dost  thou  bring  to  us 
"  Tidings  of  speedy  aid  ?  oh  I  had  it  come 
"  A  few  hours  earlier  !  Isabel  is  gone  !" 

"  Nay  she  is  safe  :"  cried  Conrade,  (<  her  I  found 
"  When  wilder' d  in  the  forest,  and  consign'd 
"  To  the  protection  of  the  holy  Maid, 
"  The  delegate  of  Heaven.     One  evening  more 
€<  And  thou  shalt  have  thine  Isabel.     Now  say, 
"  Wherefore  alone  ?  A  fugitive  from  Orleans, 
%<  Or  sent  on  dangerous  service  from  the  town !" 

%t  There  is  no  food  in  Orleans,"  he  replied, 

"  Scarce  a  meal  more  !  the  assembled  chiefs  resolv'd, 

*  If  thou  shouldst  bring  no  tidings  of  near  aid, 

tf  To  cut  their  way  to  safety,  or  by  death 

"  Prevent  the  pang  of  *  famine.     One  they  sought 


*  Fuller  calls  this  u  resolving  rather  to  lose  their  lives  by 
wholesale  on  the  point  of  the  sword,  than  to  retail  them  out 
by  famine*" 

B  2 


VI.     8 

<e  Who  venttirous  in  the  English  camp  should  spy 
*'  Where  safest  they  might  rush  upon  the  foe. 
"  The  perilous  task  I  chose,  then  desperate 
<e  Of  happiness." 

So  saying,  they  approach'd 
The  gate.     The  centinel,  soon  as  he  heard 
Thitherward  footsteps,  with  uplifted  lance 
Challenged  the  darkling  travellers.     At  their  voice 
He  draws  the  strong  bolts  back,  and  painful  turns 
The  massy  entrance.     To  the  careful  chiefs 
They  pass.     At  midnight  of  their  extreme  state 
Counselling  they  sat,  serious  and  stern.     To  them 
Conrade. 

"  Assembled  Warriors  !  sent  from  God 
"  There  is  a  holy  Maid  by  miracles 
"  Made  manifest.    Twelve  hundred  chosen  men 
*  Follow  her  hallowed  standard.     These  Dunois, 
«  The  strength  of  France,  arrays.  With  the  next  noon 
"  Ye  shall  behold  their  march/' 

Astonishment 


VI.    9 

Seized  the  convened  Chiefs,  and  joy  by  doubt 
Little  repress'd.     (<  Open  the  granaries  !" 
Xaintrailles  exclaim'd ;  u  give  we  to  all  the  host 
"  With  hand  unsparing  now  the  plenteous  meal  7 
"  To-morrow  we  are  safe  !  for  Heaven  all  just 
"  Has  seen  our  sufferings  and  decreed  their  end* 
"  Let  the  glad  tidings  echo  thro'  the  town  I 
"  God  is  with  us  1" 

"Rest  not  in  too  full  faith/' 
Graville  replied,  "  on  this  miraculous  aid. 
"  Some  frenzied  female  whose  wild  phantasy, 
"  Shaping  vain  dreams,  infects  the  credulous 
"  With  her  own  madness  !  that  Dunois  is  there,. 
rl  Leading  in  arms  twelve  hundred  chosen  men, 
"  Cheers  me:  yet  let  not  we  our  little  food 
"  Be  lavish'd,  lest  the  warrior  in  the  fight 
u  Should  haply  fail,  and  Orleans  be  the  prey 
"  Of  England !" 

"  Chief!  I  tell  thee,"  Conrade  cried, 
"  I  did  myself  behold  the  sepulchre, 
b3 


VI.     10 

™  Fulfilling  what  she  spake,  give  up  those  arms 
f*  That  surely  for  no  common  end  the  grave 
(i  Thro'  many  an  age  hath  held  inviolate. 
"  She  is  the  delegate  of  the  Most  High,, 
"  And  shall  deliver  Orleans  !" 

Gaucour  then, 
rf  Be  it  as  thou  hast  said.     High  hope  I  feel, 
f*  For  surely  to  no  vulgar  tale  these  Chiefs 
"  Would  yield  a  light  belief.     Our  scanty  stores 
"  Must  yield  us,  ere  another  week  elapse, 
"  To  death  or  England.     Tell  thro'  all  our  troops 
"  There  is  a  holy  Virgin  sent  from  God  -, 
u  They  in  that  faith  invincible  shall  war 
"  With  more  than  mortal  fury." 

Thus  the  Chief, 
And  what  he  said  seem'd  good.     The  men  of  Orleans, 
Long  by  their  foeman  bayed,  a  victim  band, 
To  war,  and  woe,  and  want,  such  transport  felt, 
As  when  the  *  Mexicans,  with  eager  eye 

*  "  It  was  the  belief  of  the  Mexicans,  that  at  the  conclusion 
of  one  of  their  centuries  the  sun  and  earth  would  be  destroyed. 


VI.     1 1 

Gazing  to  HuixachtLVs  distant  top. 
On  that  last  night,  doubtful  if  ever  morn 
Again  shall  cheer  them,  mark  the  mystic  fire 
Flame  on  the  breast  of  some  brave  prisoner, 
A  dreadful  altar.     As  they  see  the  blaze 
Beaming  on  Iztapalapan's  near  towers, 
Or  on  Tezcuco's  calmly  lake  flash'd  far, 
Songs  of  thanksgiving  and  the  shout  of  joy 
Wake  the  loud  echo  $  the  glad  husband  tears 
The  mantling  aloe  from  the  female's  face, 
And  children,  now  deliver'd  from  the  dread 
Of  everlasting  darkness,  look  abroad, 
Hail  the  good  omen,  and  expect  the  sun 
Uninjur  d  still  to  run  his  flaming  race. 


On  the  last  night  of  every  century  they  extinguished  all  their 
fires,  covered  the  faces  of  the  women  and  children,  and  ex- 
pected the  end  of  the  world.  The  kindling  of  the  sacred  fire 
on  the  mountain  of  Huixachtla  was  believed  an  omen  of  their 

safety. 

Clavigero, 

b4 


VI.      12 

Thus  while  in  that  besieged  town  the  night 

Wain  d  sleepless,  silent  slept  the  hallowed  host. 

And  now  the  morning  came.     From  his  hard  couclr, 

Lightly  upstarting  and  bedight  in  arms> 

The  Bastard  moved  along,  with  provident  eye 

Marshalling  the  troops.    All  high  in  hope  they  march } 

And  now  the  sun  shot  from  the  southern  sky 

His  noon-tide  radiance,  when  afar  they  hear 

The  hum  of  men,  and  mark  the  distant  towers 

Of  Orleans,  and  the  bulwarks  of  the  foe, 

And  many  a  streamer  wantoning  in  air. 

These  as  they  saw  and  thought  of  all  the  ills 

Their  brethren  had  endured,  beleager'd  there 

For  many  a  month  f  such  ardor  for  the  fight 

Burnt  in  each  bosom,  as  young  Ali  felt 

Then  when  Mohammed  of  the  assembled  tribe 

Ask'd  who  would  be  his  Vizir.     Fierce  in  faith 

Forth  from  the  race  of  Hashem  stept  the  youth,, 

**..  Prophet  of  God  !  lo-ajpwill  be  the  man !" 

And  well  did  Ali  merit  that  high  post 


VI.    u 

Victorious  upon  Beder's  fertile  vale, 
And  on  mount  Ohud,  and  before  the  walls 
Of  Chaibar,  when  down-cleaving  to  the  chest 
His  giant  foe,  he  grasp'd  the  massy  gate, 
Shook  with  strong  arm  and  tore  it  from  the  fort, 
And  lifted  it  in  air,  portentous  shield! 

"  Behold  the  tower  of  Orleans/*  cried  Dunois. 
"  Lo  !  this  the  vale  where  on  the  banks  of  Loire, 
"  Of  yore,  at  close  of  day  the  rustic  band 
"  Danced  to  the  roundelay.     In  younger  years 
ee  As  oft  I  glided  down  the  silver  stream, 
"  Frequent  upon  the  lifted  oar  I  paus'd 
"  Listening  the  sound  of  far-off  merriment. 
u  There  wave  the  English  banners  !  martial  Maid, 
"  Give  thou  the  signal — let  me  rush  upon 
"  These  ministers  of  murder,  who  have  sack'd 
"  The  fruitful  fields,  and  made  the  hamlet  haunts 
"  Silent — or  hearing  but  the  widow's  groan. 
u  Give  thou  the  signal  Maiden]'* 
b5 


VI.     14 

Her  dark  eye 
Fix'd  sadly  on  the  foe,  the  holy  Maid 
Answer'd  him.     "  Ere  the  bloody  sword  be  drawn, 
<f  And  slaughter  be  let  loose,  befits  us  send 
ft  Some  peaceful  messenger,  who  shall  make  known 
"  The  will  of  Heaven.     So  timely  warn'd,  our  foes 
*'  Haply  may  yet  repent,  and  quit  in  peace 
"  Besieged  Orleans.     Victory  is  sad 
€t  When  even  one  man  is  murderd." 

So  she  said, 
And  as  she  spake  a  soldier  from  the  ranks 
Came  forward.     "  I  will  be  thy  messenger, 
"  Maiden  of  God  !  I  to  the  English  camp 
u  Will  bear  thy  bidding." 

u  Go,"  the  Virgin  cried, 
u  Say  to  the  Lord  of  Salisbury,  and  the  Chiefs 
«  Of  England,  Suffolk,  FastolfFe,  Talbot,  Scales, 
"  Invaders  of  the  country,  say,  thus  says 
<(  The  Maid  of  Orleans.  "  With  your  troops  retire 
"  In  peace.     Of  every  captur'd  town  the  keys 


VI.     IS 

«  Restore  to  Charles  ;  so  bloodless  you  may  seek 

(i  Your  native  island  3  for  the  God  of  Hosts 

"  Thus  hath  decreed.     To  Charles  the  rightful  heir, 

<e  By  long  descent  and  voluntary  choice, 

"  Of  duteous  subjects  hath  the  Lord  assign'd 

(C  His  conquest.     In  his  name  the  Virgin  comes 

"  Arm'd  with  his  sword ;  yet  not  of  mercy  void, 

u  Depart  in  peace  :  for  ere  the  morrow  dawns, 

u  Victorious  upon  yonder  wall  shall  wave 

"  The  holy  banner."     To  the  English  camp 

Fearless  the  warrior  strode. 

At  mid-day  meal, 
With  all  the  dissonance  of  boisterous  mirth, 
The  British  Chiefs  carous'd  and  quaff 'd  the  bowl 
To  future  conquest.     By  the  centinel 
Conducted  came  the  Frank. 

<c  Chiefs,"  he  exclaim'd, 
ce  Salisbury,  and  ye  the  representatives 
ff  Of  the  English  King,  usurper  of  this  realm, 
u  To  ye  the  leaders  of  the  invading  host 
b6 


VI.     16 

* '  I  come,  Tio  welcome  messenger.    Thus  saith 

u  The  Maid  of  Orleans.  "  With  your  troops  retire 

*t  In  peace.     Of  every  captur'd  town  the  keys 

u  Restore  to  Charles ;  so  bloodless  you  may  seek 

"  Your  native  island  5  for  the  God  of  Hosts 

"  Thus  hath  decreed.     To  Charles  the  rightful  heir, 

€(  By  long  descent  and  voluntary  choice 

*'  Of  duteous  subjects,  hath  the  Lord  assign'd 

"  His  conquest.     In  his  name  the  Virgin  comes, 

"  ArnYd  with  his  sword,  yet  not  of  mercy  void. 

€<  Depart  in  peace :  for  ere  the  morrow  dawns, 

ts  Victorious  upon  yonder  wall  shall  wave 

**  The  holy  banner." 

Wonder  made  a  pause ; 
To  this  the  laugh  succeeds.  "What!"  Fastolfte  cried, 
9 *  A  woman  warrior  has  your  monarch  sent 
"  To  save  devoted  Orleans  ?     By  the  rood, 
"  I  thank  his  grace.     If  she  be  young  and  fair, 
u  No  worthless  prize  my  Lords !   Go  tell  your  Maid,, 
"  Joyful  we  wait  her  coming," 


VI.     17 

There  was  one  , 
Among  the  English  Chiefs,  who  had  grown  old 
In  arms,  yet  had  not  age  unnerv'd  his  limbs, 
But  from  the  flexile  nimbleness  of  youth 
Braced  to  unyielding  strength.     One,  who  had  seen 
The  warrior  at  the  feast,  might  well  have  deem'd 
That  Talbot  with  his  whole  collected  might 
Wielded  the  sword  in-  war,  for  on  his  neck 
The  veins  were  full*,  and  every  muscle  bore 
Most  powerful  character.     He  his  stern  eye 
Fix'd  on  the  Herald,  and  before  he  spake 
His  silence  f  threaten'd. 

?  Get  thee  gone!"  exclaimM 


*  3><ac/»$"  x*v  yjiojv  y;v  ocrw  o-Qevos  eWowieviiv* 
Ai  (is  ot  wl$m<xvTi  holt  avypa..  ir&vroQev  ms9 
K«/  voXiw  irif  iQirr  ro  he  <rQsvos  a%ioy  <z£xs. 

0EOKPITO2. 

f  Son  siience  menace. 

Le  Moyne, 


VI.      18 

The  indignant  Chief,  "  away  !  nor  think  to  scare 

<c  With  girlish  phantasies  the  English  host 

c '  That  scorns  your  bravest  warriors.   Hie  thee  thence, 

"  Insolent  Herald !  tell  this  frantic  girl, 

t€  This  courtly  minion,  to  avoid  my  wrath, 

u  For  if  she  dares  the  war,  I  will  not  stain 

M  My  good  blood-rusted  sword — but  she  shall  meet 

(<  The  mockery  of  the  camp !" 

"  Nay,  scare  her  not  5" 
Replied  their  Chief,  "  go  tell  this  Maid  of  Orleans, 
"  That  Salisbury  longs  to  meet  her  in  the  fight, 
"  Nor  let  her  fear  that  rude  and  iron  chains 
"  Shall  gall  her. tender  limbs ;  for  I  myself 
u  Will  be  her  prison,  and " 

"  Contemptuous  Man ! 
Cf  No  more,"  the  Frank  exclaimed,  as  to  his  cheek 
Rush'd  the  red  anger.     <c  Bearing  words  of  peace 
(t  And  timely  warning,  came  I  to  your  camp, 
<(  Here  with  ruue  mockery  and  stern  insolence 
u  Received.  Bear  witness  Chieftains !  that  the  French, 


VI.     19 

«  Free  from  blood-guiltiness,  shall  meet  the  war." 

"  And  who  art  thou  ?"  cried  Suffolk,  and  his  eye 

Grew  fierce  and  wrath- inflamed,  "  what  fool  art  thou 

"  That  at  this  woman's  bidding  comest  to  brave 

"  The  host  of  England  ?  thou  shalt  have  thy  meed !" 

Then  turning  to  the  centinel  he  cried 

<(  Prepare  the  stake  !  and  let  the  men  of  Orleans, 

(C  And  let  this  woman  who  believes  her  name 

"  May  privilege  her  apostle,  see  the  *  fire 


*  Rcsons  for  burning  a  trumpeter. 

"  The  letter  she  sent  to  Suffolk  was  received  with  scorn, 
and  the  trumpeter  that  brought  it  commanded  to  be  burnt, 
against  the  Law  of  Nations,  saith  a  French  f  Author,  but 
erroneously,  for  his  coming  was  not  warranted  by  the  authority 
of  any  lawfull  Prince,  but  from  a  private  Maid,  how  highly 
soever  self  pretended,  who  had  neither  estate  to  keep,  nor 
commission  to  send  a  trumpeter." 

Fuller's  Profane  State* 

f  Dc  Serres. 


VI.     20 

€<  Consume  him.     Build  the  stake !  for  by  my  God^ 
sc  He  shall  be  kalendered  of  this  new  faith 
u  First  martyr." 

As  he  spake  a  sudden  flush 
Came  o'er  the  Herald's  cheek,  and  his  heart  beat 
With  quicker  action ;  but  the  sudden  flush, 
Alarmed  Nature^  impulse,  faded  soon 
To  such  a  steady  hue  as  spake  the  soul 
Rous'd  up  with  all  its  powers,  and  unsubdued, 
And  glorying  in  endurance.     Thro'  the  camp. 
Soon  as  the  tidings  spread,  a  shout  arose, 
A  hideous  shout,  more  savage  than  the  howl 
Of  midnight  wolves;  and  round  the  Frank  they  throng'd; 
To  gaze  upon  their  victim.     He  pass'd  on, 
And  as  they  led  him  to  the  appointed  place 
Look'd  round,  as  tho*  forgetful  of  himself, 
And  cried  aloud,  st  Oh!  I  am  sad  to  think 
4<  So  many  men  shall  never  see  the  sun* 
"  Go  down !  ye  English  mothers  mourn  ye  now, 
"  Daughters  of  England  weep  !  for  hard  of  heart 


VI.     21 

fC  Still  your  mad  leaders  urge  the  impious  war, 

u  And  for  their  folly  and  their  wickedness, 

"  Your  sons,  your  husbands,  by  the  sword  must  fall*. 

"  Long-suffering  is  the  Lord,  and  slow  to  wrath, 

"  But  heavy  are  his  judgments  !" 

He  who  spake 
Was  young  and  comely  j  had  his  cheek  been  pale- 
With  dread,  and  had  his  eye  look'd  fearfully, 
Suie  he  had  won  compassion ;  but  the  blood 
Gave  now  a  livelier  meaning  to  his  cheek, 
As  with  a  prophets  look  and<  prophet's  voice 
He  raised  his  ominous  warning  :  they  who  heard 
Wonder'd,  and  they  who  rear'd  the  stake  urged  on. 
With  half-unwilling  hands  their  slacken' d  toil, 
And  doubted  what  might  follow. 

Not  unseen 
Rear'd  they  the  stake,  and  piled  around  the  wood.; 
Insight  "*  of  OrLeans  and  the  Maiden's  host, 


*  De  Serres  says,  "  the  trumpeter  was  ready  to  be  burnt  in 
the  sight  of  the  besieged." 


VI.     22 

Had  Suffolk'9  arrogant  fierceness  bade  the  work 
Of  death  be  done.     The  Maiden's  host  beheld. 
At  once  in  eager  wrath  they  rais'd  the  loud 
And  general  clamour,  "  lead  us  to  the  foe  !'* 
"  Not  upon  us  O  God  V*  the  Maid  exclaim'd, 
"  Not  upon  us  cry  out  the  innocent  blood  1" 
And  bade  the  signal  sound.     In  the  English  camp 
The  clarion  and  the  trumpet's  blare  was  heard, 
In  haste  they  seize  their  arms,  in  haste  they  form, 
Some  by  bold  words  seeking  to  hide  their  fear 
Even  from  themselves,  some  silently  in  prayer, 
For  much  their  hearts  misgave  them. 

But  the  rage 
Of  Suffolk  swell'd  within  him.    "  Speed  your  work!*' 
Exclaim'd  the  savage  Earl,  "  kindle  the  pile 
"  That  France  may  see  the  fire,  and  in  defeat 
.  "  Feel  aggravated  shame  !" 

And  now  they  bound 
The  Herald  to  the  stake  :  he  cried  aloud, 
And  fix'd  his  eye  on  Suffolk,  "  let  not  him 


VL     23 

"  Who  girdeth  on  his  harness  boast  himself 

"  As  he  that  puts  it  *  off!  they  come  !  they  come  ! 

«  God  and  the  Maid !'' 

The  host  of  France  approached,, 
And  Suffolk  eagerly  beheld  the  fire 
Draw  near  the  pile  3  sudden  a  fearful  shout 
Toward  Orleans  turn' d  his  eye,  and  thence  he  saw 
A  mailed  man  upon  a  mailed  steed 
Come  thundering  om 

As  when  Chederles  t  comes 
To  aid  the  righteous  on  his  deathless  steed, 


*  Let  not  him  that  girdeth  on  his  harness  boast  himself,  as 

he  that  putteth  it  off. 

I.  Kings,  20, 11. 

+  <c  A  ripsl  fluminis  Halys  venimus  ad  Goukurthoy;  inde 
Choron ;  post  in  The  Ke  Thioi.  Hie  multa  didicimus  a  mo- 
nachis  Turcicis,  quos  Dervis  vocant,  qui  eo  loco  insignem 
habent  aedem,  de  heroe  quodam  Chederle  summa  corporis 
atque  animi  fortitudine,  qucm  eundem  fuisse  cum  nostro  D. 
Georgio  fabulantur  ;  eademque  illi  ascribunt  quae  huic  nostri ; 
nimirum  vasti  et  horrendi  draconis  caede  servasse  expositam 
virginem.     Ad  haec  alia  adjiciunt  multa,  et  quae  libitum  est* 


Swaying  His  sword  with  such  resistless  arm, 
Such  mightiest  force,  as  he  had  newly  quafFd  ; 
The  hidden  waters  of  eternal  youth, 
Till  with  the  copious  draught  of  life  and  strength 
Inebriate ;  such,  so  fierce,  so  terrible, 
Came  Conradethro'  the  camp  5  aright,  aleft, 
The  affrighted-  English  scatter  from  his  spear  y 
Onward  he  drives,  and  now  the  circling  throng 


comminiscuntur ;  ilium  per  longinquas  oras  peregrinari  soli- 

fum,  ad  fluvium  postremo  pervenisse ;  cujus  aquae  bibentibos 

praestarent  immortalitatem.     Qui  quidem  fluvius,  in  qua  parte 

terrarum  sit,   non  dicunt  ;  nisi   fortassis  in  Utopia  collocari 

debet :    tantum   affirmant   ilium   magnis   tenebris,   multaque 

caligine   obductum   latere ;  neque   cuiquam   mortalium   post 

Chederlem,    uti   ilium   videret,    contigisse.     Chederlem   vero 

ipsum  mortis  legibus  solutum,  hue  illuc  in  equo  praestantis- 

simo,  qui  similiter  ejusdem  aquae  haustu  mortalitatem  exuerit, 

divagari,  gaudentem  praeliis,  adesse  in  bello  melioribus,  aut.iis 

qui  ejus  opem  imploraverint,  cujuscunque  tandem  sint  reli- 

gionis." 

Busbequius. 

The  Persians  say,  that  Alexander  coming  to  understand,  that 
in  the  mountain  of  Kaf  there  was  a  great  cave;  very  black 


VI.     25 

Fly  from  the  stake,  and  now  he  checks  his  course,, 
And  cuts  the  Herald's  bonds,  and  bids  him  live, 
And  arm,  and  fight,  and  conquer. 


End  dark,  wherein  ran  the  water  of  immortality,  would  needs 
take  a  journey  thither.  But  being  afraid  to  lose  his  way  in  the 
cave,  and  considering  with  himself  that  he  had  committed  a 
great  oversight  in  leaving  the  more  aged  in  cities  and  fortified 
places,  and  keeping  about  his  person  only  young  people  such 
as  were  not  able  to  advise  him,  he  ordered  to  be  brought  to 
him  some  old  man,  whose  counsell  he  might  follow  in  the 
adventure  he  was  then  upon.  There  were  in  the  whole  army 
but  two  brothers  named  Chidder  and  Elias  who  had  brought 
their  father  along  with  them,  and  this  good  old  man  bad  his 
sons  go  and  tell  Alexander,  that  to  go  thro'  with  the  design  he 
had  undertaken,  his  only  way  were  to  take  a  mare  that  had  a 
colt  at  her  heels,  and  to  ride  upon  her  into  the  cave,  and  leave 
the  colt  at  the  entrance  of  it,  and  the  mare  would  infallibly 
bring  him  back  again  to  the  same  place  without  any  trouble. 
Alexander  thought  the  advice  so  good,  that  he  would  not  take 
any  other  person  with  him  in  that  journey  but  those  two  bro- 
thers, leaving  the  rest  of  his  retinue  at  the  entrance  of  the 
cave.  He  advanced  so  far  that  he  came  to  a  gate,  so  well 
polished,  that  notwithstanding  the  great  darkness,  it  gave 
light  enough  to  let  him  see  there  was  a  bird  fastened  thereto. 
The  bird  asked  Alexander  what  he  would  .have?   he  made 


VI.     26 

"  Haste  thee  hence 
r*  To  Orleans,*'  cried  the  warrior.  te  Tell  the  Chiefs 
(<  There  is  confusion  in  the  English  camp. 


answer  that  he  looked  for  the  water  of  Immortality.  The 
bird  asked  him,  what  was  done  in  the  world  ?  Mischief 
enough,  replies  Alexander,  since  there  is  no  vice  or  sin  but 
reigns  there.  Whereupon  the  bird  getting  loose  and  flying 
away,  the  gate  opened  and  Alexander  saw  an  angel  sitting* 
with  a  trumpet  in  his  hand,  holding  it  as  if  he  were  going  to 
put  it  to  his  mouth.  Alexander  asked  him  his  name.  The 
angel  made  answer  his  name  was  Raphael,  and  that  he  only 
staid  for  a  command  from  God  to  blow  the  trumpet,  and  to 
call  the  dead  to  judgement.  Which  having  said,  he  asks 
Alexander  who  he  was  ?  I  am  Alexander,  replied  he,  and  I 
seek  the  water  of  Immortality.  The  angel  gave  him  a  stone 
and  said  to  him,  go  thy  wayes,  and  look  for  another  stone  of 
the  same  weight  with  this,  and  then  thou  shalt  find  immor- 
tality. Whereupon  Alexander  asked  how  long  he  had  to  live  ? 
The  angel  said  to  him,  till  such  time  as  the  heaven  and  the 
earth  which  encompass  thee  be  turned  to  iron.  Alexander 
being  come  out  of  the  cave,  sought  a  long  time,  and  not 
meeting  with  any  stone  just  of  the  same  weight  with  the  other, 
he  put  one  into  the  balance  which  he  thought  came  very  near 
it,  and  finding  but  very  little  difference,  he  added  thereto  a 
little  earth,  which  made  the  scales  even  5  it  being  God's  inten- 


VI.     27 

*'  Bid  them  come  forth . ' '  On  Conrade's  steed  the  youth 
Leapt  up  and  hasten  d  onward.     He  the  while 
Turn'd  to  the  war. 


tion  to  show  Alexander  thereby,  that  he  was  not  to  expect  im- 
mortality till  he  himself  were  put  into  the  earth.  At  last 
Alexander  having  one  day  a  fall  off  his  horse  in  the  barren 
ground  of  Ghur,  they  laid  him  upon  the  coat  he  wore  over 
his  armour,  and  covered  him  with  his  buckler  to  keep  off  the 
heat  of  the  sun.  Then  he  began  to  comprehend  the  prophecy 
of  the  angel,  and  was  satisfied  the  hour  of  his  death  was  at 
hand;  accordingly  he  died. 

They  add  to  this  fable,  that  the  two  brothers  Chidder  and 
Elias  drunk  of  the  water  of  Immortality,  and  that  they  are 
still  living  but  invisible,  Elias  upon  the  earth,  and  Chidder  in 
the  water ;  wherein  the  latter  hath  so  great  power,  that  those 
who  are  in  danger  of  being  destroyed  by  water,  if  they  earnest- 
ly pray,  vowing  an  offering  to  him,  and  firmly  believing  that 
he  can  relieve  them,  shall  escape  the  danger. 

Amb.  Trav. 

Khidir  and  Elias  occupy  a  distinguished  place  in  the  legion 
of  prophets.  The  name  of  the  first  signifies  verdant,  alluding 
to  the  power  which  he  possessed  of  producing,  wherever  he 
trod,  the  most  beautiful  and  enchanting  verdure.  These  two 
are  regarded  as  the  protectors  and  tutelary  gods  of  travellers ; 


VI.     28 

Like  two  conflicting  clouds. 
Pregnant  with  thunder,  rush'd  the  hostile  hosts. 
Then  man  met  man,  then  on  the  batter'd  shield 
Rung  the  loud  lance,  and  thro*  the  darkened  sky 
Fast  fell  the  arrowy  storm.     Amid  his  foes 
The  Bastard's  arm  sway'd  irresistible 
The  strokes  of  death;  and  by  his  side  the  Maid 
Led  the  fierce  fight,  the  Maid,  tho'  all  unused 
To  the  rude  conflict,  now  inspired  by  Heaven, 
Plashing  her  flamy  falchion  thro'  the  troops. 
That  like  the  thunderbolt,  where'er  it  fell, 
Scattered  the  trembling  ranks ;  the  Saracen, 
Tho'  arm'd  from  Cashbin  or  Damascus,  wields 
A  weaker  sword ;  nor  might  that  magic  blade 
Compare  with  this  which  Oriana  saw 


the  former  upon  the  sea,  the  latter  upon  the  land ;  and  they 
are  thought  to  be  incessantly  employed  in  promoting  these 
salutary  objects.  In  their  rapid  and  uniform  courses,  they  are 
believed  to  meet  once  a  year  at  Mina,  in  the  environs  of  Mecca, 
the  day  on  which  the  pilgrims  are  assembled. 

D'Olisson's  HisU  of  the  Othman  Empire. 


VI.     29 

Flame  in  the  ruffian  Ardan's  robber  hand, 
When,  sick  and  cold  as  the  grave,  she  turn'd  away 
Her  dizzy  eyes  lest  they  should  see  the  death 
Of  her  own  Amadis.     Nor  plated  shield, 
Nor  the  strong  hauberk,  nor  the  crested  casque, 
Stay  that  descending  sword.     Dreadful  she  moved, 
Like  as  the  Angel  of  the  Lord  went  forth 
And  smote  his  army,  when  the  Assyrian  King, 
Haughty  of  Hamath  and  Sepharvaim  fallen, 
Blasphem'd  the  God  of  Israel. 

Yet  the  fight 
Hung  doubtful,  where  exampling  hardiest  deeds, 
Salisbury  mow'd  down  the  foe,  and  Fastolffe  strove, 
And  in  the  hottest  doings  of  the  war 
Towered  Talbot.     He,  remembering  the  past  day 
When  from  his  name  the  affrighted  sons  of  France 
Fled  trembling,  all  astonished  at  their  force 
And  wontless  valour,  rages  round  the  field 
Dreadful  in  Fury^  yet  in  every  man 

VOL.  II.  c 


VI.     30 

Meeting  a  foe  fearless,  and  in  the  faith 
Of  Heaven's  assistance  firm. 

The  clang  of  arms 
Reaches  the  walls  of  Orleans.     For  the  war 
Prepared,  and  confident  of  victory, 
Speed  forth  the  troops.     Not  when  afar  exhaled 
The  hungry  raven  snuffs  the  steam  of  blood 
That  from  some  carcass- cover'd  field  of  fame 
Taints  the  pure  air,  wings  he  more  eagerly 
To  riot  on  the  gore,  than  rush'd  the  ranks  5 
Inpatient  now  for  many  an  ill  endured 
In  the  long  siege,  to  wreak  upon  their  foes 
Due  vengeance..    Then  more  fearful  grew  the  fray ; 
The  *  swords  that  late  flash'd  to  the  evening  sun, 


*  Now  does  the  day  grow  blacker  than  before, 
The  swords  that  glistered  late,  in  purple  gore 
Now  all  distahYd,  their  former  brightnesse  lose. 

Mays  Edward  III. 
And  again  Book  7. 
The  glittering  swords  that  shone  so  bright  of  late 
Are  quickly  all  distairf  d  with  purple  gore. 


VI.     31 

Now  quench'd  in  blood  their  radiance. 

O'er  the  host 
Howl'd  the  deep  wind  that  ominous  of  storms 
Roll'd  on  the  lurid  clouds.     The  blacken'd  night 
Frown'd,  and  the  thunder  from  the  troubled  sky 
Roar'd  hollow.     Javelins  clash' d  and  buckler's  rang  5 
Shield  prest  on  shield  3  loud  on  the  helmet  jarr'd 
The  ponderous  battJe  axe  $  the  frequent  groan 
Of  death  commingling  with  the  storm  was  heard, 
And  the  shrill  shriek  of  Fear. 

Even  such  a  storm 
Before  the  walls  of  Chartres  quel  I'd  the  \  r  de 
Of  the  third  Edward,  when  the  heavy  hail 
Smote  down  his  soldiers,  and  the  Conqueror  heard 
God  in  the  tempest,  and  remembered  him 
Of  the  widows  he  had  made,  and  in  the  name 
Of  blessed  Mary  *  vowed  the  vow  of  peace. 


*  II  advint  a  luy  et  a  toute  sa  gent,  cstant  devant  Chartres* 
qui  moult  humilia  et  brise  son  courage  ;  car  entendis  que  ces 
c  2 


VI.     52 

Lo  !  where  the  holy  banner  waved  aloft, 

The  lambent  lightnings  play'd.     Irradiate  round 

As  with  a  blaze  of  glory,  o'er  the  field 

It  stream'd  miraculous  splendour.     Then  their  hearts 


traicteurs  Francois  alloient  et  preschoient  lcdit  roy  et  son  con- 
seil,  et  encores  nulle  responce  agreable  nen  avoient  eue.  Une 
orage  une  tempeste  et  une  fonldre  si  grande  et  si  horrible  des- 
cends du  ciel  en  lost  du  roy  Dangleterre  quil  scmbloit  propre- 
ment  que  le  siecle  deust  finer.  Car  il  cheoit  si  grosses  pierres 
que  elles  tuoyent  hommes  et  chevaulx,  et  en  furent  les  plus 
hardis  tous  esbahis.  Adoncques  regarda  le  roy  Dangleterre 
devers  leglise  de  aostre  dame  de  Chartres,  et  se  voua  et  rendit 
devotement  a  nostre  dame,  et  promist,  et  coufissa  sicornm.e  il 

dist  depuis  quil  se  aecorderoit  a  la  paix. 

Froi  start. 

But  whilst  he  lodged  there  (before  Chartres),  his  army  mak- 
ing a  horrible  spcile  of  the  whole  country,  there  chanced  an 
occasion,  as  the  work  of  Heaven,  which  suddenly  quailed  his 
ambitious  design  to  ruin  Fiance :  for  behold  a  horrible  and 
extraordinary  tempest  of  haile,  thunder,  and  lightning,  fals 
with  such  violence  as  many  horses  and  men  in  the  army  pe- 
rished, as  if  that  God  had  aretched  forth  his  hand  from  Heaven 

to  stay  his  course. 

De  gcrres. 


VI.     33 

Sunk,  and  the  English  trembled  5  with  such  fear 
Possessed,  as  when  the  combined  host  beheld 
The  sun  stand  still  on  Gibeon,  at  the  voice 
Of  that  king-conquering  warrior,  he  who  smote 
The  country  of  the  hills,  and  of  the  south, 
From  Baal-gad  to  Halak,  and  their  Kings, 
Even  as  the  Lord  commanded.     Swift  they  fled 
From  that  portentous  banner,  and  the  sword 
Of  France ;  tho'  Talbot  with  vain  valiancy 
Yet  urged  the  war,  and  stemm'd  alone  the  tide 
Of  conquest.     Even  their  leaders  felt  dismay  ; 
FastolfFe  fled  fast,  and  Salisbury  in  the  rout 
Mingles,  and  all  impatient  of  defeat, 
Borne  backward  Talbot  turns.     Then  echoed  loud 
The  cry  of  conquest,  deeper  grew  the  storm, 
And  Darkness,  hov'ring  o'er  on  raven  wing, 
Brooded  the  field  of  death. 

Nor  in  the  camp 
Deem  themselves  safe  the  trembling  fugitives. 
On  to  the  forts  they  haste.     Bewilder'd  there 
c3 


vi.  m 

Amid  the  moats  by  fear,  and  the  dead  gloom 
Of  more  than  midnight  darkness,,  plunge  the  troops? 
Crush' d  by  fast  following  numbers  who  partake 
The  'death  they  give.     As  rushing  from  the  snows 
Of  winter  liquified,  the  torrent  tide 
Resistless  down  the  mountain  rolls  along, 
Till  at  the  brink  of  giddy  precipice 
Arrived,  with  deafening  clamour  down  it  falls  : 
Thus  borne  along,  the  affrighted  English  troops 
Driven  by  the  force  behind  them,  plunge  amid 
The  liquid  death.     Then  rose  the  dreadful  cries 
More  dreadful,  and  the  dash  of  breaking  waves 
That  to  the  passing  lightning  as  they  broke 
Gleam'd  horrible. 

Nor  of  the  host  so  late 
Triumphing  in  the  pride  of  victory, 
And  swoln  with  confidence,  had  now  escaped 
One  wretched  remnant,  had  not  Talbot's  mind, 
Slow  as  he  moved  unwilling  from  the  war, 
What  most  might  profit  the.  defeated  ranksx 


VI.     35 

Pondered.     He  reaching  safe  the  massy  fort 

By  St.  John  s  name  made  holy,  kindled  Up 

The  guiding  fire.     Not  unobserved  it  blazed  -, 

The  watchful  guards  on  Tournelles,  and  the  pile 

Of  that  proud  city  in  remembrance  fond 

Caird  London,  light  the  beacon.     Soon  the  fires 

Flame  on  the  summit  of  the  circling  forts 

That  firm  entrenched  with  walls  and  deep-delved  moats 

Included  Orleans.     O'er  the  shadowy  plain 

They  cast  a  lurid  splendor  >  to  the  troops 

Grateful,  as  to  the  way-worn  traveller,. 

Wandering  with  parched  feet  o'er  the  Arabian  sands, 

The  far-seen  cistern  $  he  for  many  a  league 

Travelling  the  trackless  desolate,  where  heaved 

With  tempest  swell  the  desart  billows  round, 

Pauses,  and  shudders  at  his  perils  past, 

Then  wild  with  joy  speeds  on  to  taste  the  wave 

So  long  bewail'd. 

Swift  as  the  affrighted  herd 
Scud  o'er  the  plain,  when  frequent  thro'  the  sky 
c4 


VI.     36 

Flash  the  fierce  lightnings,  speed  the  routed  host 
Of  England.     To  the  sheltering  forts  they  haste, 
Tho'  safe,  of  safety  doubtful,  still  appall'd 
And  trembling,  as  the  pilgrim  who  by  night 
On  his  way  wilder'd,  to  the  wolf's  deep  howl 
Hears  the  wood  echo,  when  from  the  fell  beast 
Escaped,  of  some  tall  tree  the  topmast  branch 
He  grasps  close  clinging,  still  of  that  keen  fang 
Fearful,  his  teeth  jar,  and  the  big  drops  stand 
On  his  cold  quivering  limbs. 

Nor  now  the  maid 
Greedy  of  vengeance  urges  the  pursuit. 
She  bids  the  trumpet  of  retreat  resound  : 
A  pleasant  music  to  the  routed  ranks 
Blows  the  loud  blast.     Obedient  to  its  voice 
The  French,  tho'  eager  on  the  invaders'  heads. 
To  wreak  their  wrath,  stay  the  victorious  sword. 

Loud  is  the  cry  of  conquest  as  they  turn 

To  Orleans.     There  what  few  to  guard  the  town 


VI. 


Unwilling  had  remained,  baste  forth  to  meet 
The  triumph.     Many  a  blazing  torch  they  held 
That  rais'd  aloft  amid  the  midnight  storm, 
Flash'd  far  a  festive  light.     The  Maid  advanced ; 
Deep  *  thro'  the  sky  the  hollow  thunders  roll'd ; 
Innocuous  lightnings  round  the  halknved  banner 
Wreath'd  their  red  radiance. 

Thro'  the  open'd  gate 


*  The  circumstance  of  the  Maid's  entering  Orleans  at  mid- 
night in  a  storm  of  thunder  and  lightning  is  historically  true. 

"  The  Englishmen  perceiving  that  thei  within  could  not 
long  continue  for  faute  of  vitaile  and  pouder,  kepte  not  their 
watche  so  diligently  as  thei  wer  accustomed,  nor  scoured  not 
the  countrey  environed  as  thei  before  had  ordained.  Whiche 
negligence  the  Citezens  shut  in  perceiving,  sent  worde  therof 
to  the  French  capitaines,  which  with  Pucelle  in  the  dedde 
tyme  of  the  nighte,  and  in  a  greate  rayne  and  thundre,  with 
all  their  vitaile  and  artilery  entered  into  the  citie. 

Hull  fol.  127. 

Shakespear  also  notices  this  storm.     Striking  as  the  circum- 
stance is  Chapelain  has  omitted  it. 

c  5 


vl  m 

Slow  past  the  laden  convoy.     Then  was  heard 
The  shout  of  exultation,  and  such  joy 
The  men  of  Orleans  at  that  welcome  sight 
Possess'd;  as  when  from  Bactria  late  subdued, 
The  mighty  Macedonian  led  his  troops 
Amid  the  Sogdian  desart,  where  no  stream 
Wastes  on  the  wild  its  fertilizing  waves. 
Fearful  alike  to  pause,  or  to  proceed  ; 
Scorch'd  by  the  sun  that  o'er  their  morning  march 
Steam'd  his  hot  vapours,  heart  subdued  and  faint  > 
Such  joy  as  then  they  felt,  when  from  the  heights 
Burst  the  soul-gladdening  sound !  for  thence  was  seen 
The  evening  sun  silvering  the  vale  below, 
Where  Oxus  roll'd  along. 

Clamours  of  joy 
Echo  along  the  streets  of  Orleans,  wont 
Long  time  to  hear  the  infant's  feeble  cry, 
The  mother's  frantic  shriek,  or  the  dread  sound, 
When  from  the  cannon  burst  its  stores  of  death. 
far  flames  the  lire  of  joy  on  ruin'd  piles, 


VI.     39 

And  high  heap'd  carcasses,  whence  scared  away 
From  his  abhorred  meal,  on  clattering  wing 
Rose  the  night-raven  slow. 

In  the  English  forts, 
Sad  was  the  scene.     There  all  the  livelong  night 
Steals  in  the  straggling  fugitive ;  as  when, 
Past  is  the  storm,  and  o'er  the  azure  sky 
Serenely  shines  the  sun  5  with  every  breeze 
The  waving  branches  drop  their  gather'd  rain, 
Renewing  the  remembrance  of  the  storm. 


c6 


JOAN  of  A  RC 


THE  SEVENTH  BOOK. 


Strong  were  the  English  *  forts,  by  daily  toil 
Of  thousands  rear'd  on  high,  when  arrogant 
With  fancied  conquest,  Salisbury  bade  rise 
The  amazing  pile,  from  succour  to  include 
Besieged  Orleans.     Round  the  city  walls 


*The  patience  and  perseverance  of  a  besieging  army  in  those 
ages  appear  almost  incredible  to  us  now.  The  camp  of  Fer- 
dinand before  Granada  swelled  into  a  city.  Edward  III.  made 
a  market  town  before  Calais.  Upon  the  Captain's  refusal  to 
surrender,  says  Barnes,  "  he  began  to  entrench  himself  strongly 
about  the  city,  setting  his  own  tent  directly  against  the  chief 
gates  at  which  he  intended  to  enter ;  then  he  placed  bastions 
between  the  town  and  the  river,  and  set  out  regular  streets, 
and  rear'd  up  decent  buildiugs  of  strong  timber  between  the 
trenches,  which  he  covered  with  thatch,  reed,  broom  and 
skins.     Thus  he  encompassed  the  whole  town  of  Calais,  from 

1 


VII.     42 

Stretch'd  the  wide  circle,  massy  as  the  fence1 

Erst  by  the  fearful  Roman  on  the  bounds 

Of  Caledonia  rais'd,  for,  soul-enslaved 

Her  hireling  plunderers  fear'd  the  car-borne  chiefs 

Who  rush'd  from  Morven  down. 

Strong  battlements- 
Crested  the  mighty  bulwark,  on  whose  top 
Secure  the  charioteer  might  wheel  along. 
The  frequent  buttress  at  just  distance,  rose 


Risban  on  the  northwest  side  to  Courgaine  on  the  northeast, 
all  along  by  Sangate,  at  Port  and  Fort  de  Niculay,  commonly 
by  the  English  called  Newland-bridge,  down  by  Hammes, 
Cologne  and  Marke;  so  that  his  camp  looked  like  a  spacious 
city,  and  was  usually  by  strangers,  that  came  thither  to  mar- 
ket, called  New  Calais  For  this  Prince's  reputation  for  justice 
was  so  great,  that  to  his  markets  (which  he  held  in  his  camp 
twice  every  week,  viz,  on  Tuesdays  and  Saturdays  for  flesh, 
fish,  bread,  wine  and  ale,  with  cloth  and  all  other  necessaries), 
there  came  not  only  his  friends  and  allies  from  England,  Flan- 
ders and  Aquitain,  but  even  many  of  King  Philip's  subjects 
and  confederates  conveyed  thither  their  cattle  and  other  com- 
modities to  be  sold. 


VIL     43 

Declining  from  its  base,  and  sixty  forts 

Lifted  aloft  their  turret-crowned  heads, 

All  firm  and  massy.     Bat  of  these  most  firm, 

As  tho'  of  some  large  castle  each  the  Keep, 

Stood  six  square  fortresses  with  turrets  flank'd, 

Piles  of  unequall'd  strength,  tho'  now  deem'd  weak 

'Gainst  puissance  more  than  mortal.     Safely  hence 

The  skilful  archer  entering  #  with  his  eye 

The  city,  might,  himself  the  while  unseen, 

Thro'  the  long  opening  shower  his  winged  deaths. 

Loire's  waves  diverted  fill'd  the  deep-dug  moat 

Circling  the  pile,  a  bulwark  vast,  as  what 

Round  their  disheartened  camp  and  stranded  ships 

The  Greeks  uprear'd,  a  common  sepulchre 

Of  thousands  slaughter'd,  and  the  doom'd  death-place 

Of  many  a  Chief,  when  Priam's  patriot  son 


*  Nunc  lentus,  celsis  adstans  in  collibus,  intrat 
Urbem  oculis,  discitque  locos  caussasque  locorum. 

Silius  halicus,  xii.  56?, 


TIL     U 

Bush'd  in  his  wratli  and  scattered  their  pale  tribes. 
But  cowering  now  amid  their  sheltering  forts 
Tremble  the  English  host.     Their  leaders  care 
In  anxious  vigilance  prepares  to  ward 
Assault  expected.     Nor  the  Maid's  intent 
Did  he  not  rightly  areed  j  tho'  vain  the  attempt 
To  kindle  in  their  breasts  the  wonted  flame 
Of  valour  ;  for  by  prodigies  unmanned 
They  wait  the  morn  -,  the  soldiers  pride  was  gone, 
The  blood  was  on  their  swords,  their  bucklers  lay 
Unburnish'd  and  *  defiled,  they  sharpened  not 
Their  blunted  spears,  the  affrighted  archer's  hand 
Relaxed  not  his  bent  bow.     To  them,  confused 
With  fears  of  unknown  danger  the  long  night 
Was  dreadful,  but  more  dreadful  dawn'd  the  day. 


*  Abjecere  madentes, 
Sicut  erant,  clypeos  ;  nee  quisquam  spicula  tersit, 
Nee  laudavit  equum,  nitidis  nee  cassidis  altam 
Compsit  adomavitque  jubam. 

Statins, 


VII.     45 

The  morning  came.     The  martial  Maid  arose. 
Lovely  in  arms  she  moved.     Around  the  gate 
Eager  again  for  conquest  throng  the  troops. 
High  towered  the  Son  of  Orleans,  in  his  strength 
Poising  the  ponderous  spear.     His  batter' d  shield, 
Witnessing  the  fierce  fray  of  yesternight, 
Hung  on  his  sinewy  arm. 

"  Maiden  of  Arc, 
«  So  as  he  spake  approaching/'  cried  the  Chief, 
if  Well  hast  thou  prov'd  thy  mission,  as,  by  words 
"  And  miracles  attested  when  dismayed 
<e  The  stern  Theologists  forgot  their  doubts, 
"  So  in  the  field  of  slaughter  now  confirmed. 
"'  Yon  well-fenced  forts  protect  the  fugitives, 
"  And  seem  as  in  their  strength  they  mock'd  our  force. 
"  Yet  must  they  fall." 

"  And  fall  they  shall !"  replied 
The  Maid  of  Orleans.     u  Ere  the  sun  be  set 
"  The  lily  on  that  shattered  wall  shall  wara 
«  Triumphant.— Men  of  France !  ye  have  fought  well 

VOL.  II. 


VII.     46' 

"  On  that  blood-reeking  plain.    Your  humbled  foes 

"  Lurk  trembling  now  amid  their  massy  walls ; 

"  Wolves  that  have  ravaged  the  neglected  flock  ! 

"  The  Shepherd — the  Great  Shepherd  is  arisen ! 

"  Ye  fly  !  yet  shall  not  ye  by  flight  escape 

"  His  vengeance.     Men  of  Orleans  !  it  were  vain 

tc  By  words  to  waken  wrath  within  your  breasts. 

"  Look  round !  Your  holy  buildings  and  your  homes — 

"  Ruins  that  choke  the  way !   your  populous  town — 

<e  One  open  sepulchre !  who  is  there  here 

"  That  does  not  mourn  a  friend,  a  brother  slain, 

€(  A  parent  famished — or  his  dear  loved  wife 

"  Torn  from  his  bosom — outcast — broken  hearted — 

<e  Cast  on  tne  mercy  of  mankind  ?'* 

She  ceased. 
The  cry  of  indignation  from  the  host 
Burst  forth,  and  all  impatient  for  the  war 
Demand  the  signal.     These  Dunois  arrays 
In  four  battallions.     Xaintrailles,  tried  in  war, 
Commands  the  first  ;  Xaintrailles,  who  oft  subdued 


VI L     47 

By  adverse  fortune  to  the  captive  chain, 

Still  more  tremendous  to  the  enemy, 

Lifted  his  death-fraught  lance,  as  erst  from  earth 

Antaeus  vaunting  in  his  giant  bulk, 

When  graspt  by  force  Herculean,  down  he  fell 

Vanquisht  ;  anon  uprose  more  fierce  for  war. 

Gaucour  o'er  one  presides,  the  steady  friend 
To  long  imprison'd  Orleans  \  of  his  town 
Beloved  guardian,  he  the  dreadful  siege 
Firmly  abiding,  prudent  still  to  plan 
Irruption,  and  with  youthful  vigour  swift 
To  lead  the  battle,  from  his  soldiers  love 
Prompter  obedience  gained,  than  ever  fear 
Forced  from  the  heart  reluctant. 

The  third  band 
Alengon  leads.     He  on  the  fatal  field 
Verneuil,  when  Buchan  and  the  Douglas  died, 
Fell  senseless.     Guiltless  he  of  that  day's  loss, 
Wore  undisgraced  awhile  the  captive  chain. 


VII.     48 

The  Monarch  him  mindful  of  his  high  rank 
Had  ransom'd,  once  again  to  meet  the  foe 
With  better  fortune. 

O'er  the  last  presides 
Dunois  the  Bastard,  mighty  in  the  war. 
His  prowess  knew  the  foes,  and  his  fair  fame 
Confessed,  since  when  before  his  stripling  arm 
Fled  Warwick,  Warwick,  he  whose  fair  renown 
Greece  knew  and  Antioch  and  the  holy  soil 
Of  Palestine,  since  there  in  arms  he  pass'd 
On  gallant  pilgrimage,  yet  by  Dunois 
Baffled,  and  yielding  him  the  conqueror's  praise. 
And  by  his  side  the  Martial  Maiden  pass'd,. 
Lovely  in  arms  as  that  Arcadian  boy 
Parthenopaeus,  when  the  *  war  of  beastss- 


*  Ipsam,  Maenalia  puerum  cum  vidit  in  umbra, 
Dianam,  tenero  signantem  gramina  passu, 
Ignovisse  ferunt  comiti,  Dictaegque  tela 
Ipsam,  et  Amyclaeas  humeris  aptasse  pharetras. 
- taedet  nemorum,  titulumque  noccxuesnv 


VIL     49 

Disdaining,  he  to  murder  man  rush'd  forth, 
Bearing  the  bow,  and  those  Dictaean  shafts 
Diana  gave,  when  she  the  youth's  fair  form 
Saw  softened,  and  forgave  the  mother's  fault. 

Saint  Loup's  strong  fort  stood  first.    Here  *  Gladdisdale 
Commands  the  fearful  troops. 

As  lowering  clouds 
Swept  by  the  hoarse  wind  o'er  the  blacken  d  plain, 
Mov'd  on  the  host  of  France  :  they  from  the  fort, 
Thro'  secret  opening,  shower  their  pointed  shafts, 
Or  from  the  battlements  the  death-dipt  spear 


Sanguinis  humani  pudor  est  nescire  sagittas. 

Statiut.  IV.  S5& 

*  Gladdisdale  must  be  the  Sir  William  Glansdale  of  Shakes- 
peare. Henry  VI.  Part  l.  Stowe  calls  him  William  Glades- 
dale. 

It  is  proper  to  remark  that  I  have  introduced  no  fictitious 
names  among  the  killed.  They  may  all  be  found  in  the  va- 
rious histories. 


VII.     50 

Hurl  fierce.     Nor  from  the  strong  arm  only  launch'd 
The  javelin  fled.,  but  driven  by  the  strained  force 
Of  the  *  balista,  in  one  carcass  spent 
Stay'd  not ,   thro'  arms  and  men  it  makes  its  way, 
And  leaving  death  behind,  still  holds  its  course 
By  many  a  death  unclogg'd.     With  rapid  march 
Eight  onward  they  advanced,  and  soon  the  shafts, 
Impell'd  by  that  strong  stroke  beyond  the  host, 


*  Neque  enim  solis  excussa  lacertis 
Lancea,  sed  tenso  balistse  turbine  rapta, 
Haud  unum  contenta  latus  transire,  quiescit ; 
Sed  pandens  perque  arma  viam,  perque  ossa,  relicta 
Morte  fugit:  superest  telopost  vulncra  cursus. 

Luc  an.  III. 
Vegetius  says,  that  the  Balista  discharged  darts  with  such 
rapidity  and  violence,  that  nothing  could  resist  their  force. 
This  engine  was  used  particularly  to  discharge  darts  of  a  sur- 
prising length  and  weight,  and  often  many  small  ones  together. 
Its  form  was  not  unlike  that  of  a  broken  bow;  it  had  two 
arms,  but  strait  and  not  curve  like  those  of  a  cross-bow,  of 
which  the  whole  acting  force  consists  in  bending  the  bow. 
That  of  the  balista   as  well  as   of  the   catapulta,  lies  in  its 

cords. 

Rollin. 


VII.     51 

Wasting  their  force,  fell  harmless.     Now  they  reacli'd 
Where  by  the  *  bayle' s  embattled  wall  in  arms 
The  Knights  of  England  stood.     There  Poynings  shook 
His  lance,  and  Gladdisdale  his  heavy  mace 
For  the  death-blow  prepared.     Alen<jon  here, 
And  here  the  Bastard  strode,  and  by  the  Maid 
That  daring  man  who  to  the  English  host 
Then  insolent  of  many  a  conquest  gain'd, 


*  The  bayle  or  lists  was  a  space  on  the  outside  of  the  ditch, 
surrounded  by  strong  pallisades,  and  sometimes  by  a  low  em- 
battled wall.  In  the  attack  of  fortresses,  as  the  range  of  the 
machines  then  in  use  did  not  exceed  thedistance  of  four  stadia, 
the  besiegers  did  not  carry  on  their  approaches  by  means  of 
trenches,  but  begun  their  operations  above  ground,  with  the 
attack  of  the  bayle  or  lists,  where  many  feats  of  chivalry  were 
performed  by  the  Knights  and  men  at  arms,  who  considered 
the  assault  of  that  work  as  particularly  belonging  to  them,  the 
weight  of  their  armour  preventing  them  from  scaling  the  walls. 
As  this  part  was  attacked  by  the  Knights  and  men  at  arms,  it 
was  also  defended  by  those  of  the  same  rank  in  the  place, 
whence  many  single  combats  were  fought  here.  This  was  at 
the  first  investing  of  the  place. 

C :  Dff. 


VII.     52 

Eore  her  bold  bidding.     A  rude  *  coat  of  mail 

Unhosed,  unhooded,  as  of  lowly  line 

Arm'd  him,  tho'  here  amid  the  high-born  chiefs 

Preeminent  for  prowess.     On  his  head 

A  black  plume  shadowed  the  rude-featur'd  +  helm. 

Then  was  the  war  of  men,  when  front  to  front 

They  rear'd  the  hostile  hand,  for  low  the  wall 

Where  the  bold  Frenchman's  upward- driven  spear, 

Might  pierce  the  foemen. 


*  In  France  only  persons  of  a  certain  estate,  called  un  fief 
de  hauber,  were  permitted  to  wear  a  hauberk,  which  was  the 
armor  of  a  Knight.  Esquires  might  only  wear  a  simple  coat 
of  mail  without  the  hood  and  hose.  Had  this  aristocratic  dis- 
tinction consisted  in  the  ornamental  part  of  the  arms  alone,  it 
would  only  have  been  ridiculous.  In  the  enlightened  and  free 
States  of  Greece,  every  soldier  was  well  provided  with  defensive 
arms.  In  Rome,  a  civic  wreath  was  the  reward  of  him  who 
should  save  the  life  of  a  citizen.  To  use  the  words  of  Dr. 
Gillies,  "  the  miserable  peasants  of  modern  Europe  are  exposed 
without  defence  as  without  remorse,  by  the  ambition  of  men, 
whom  the  Greeks  would  have  stiled  tyrants." 

f  The  burgonet,  which  represented  the  shape  of  the  head 
and  features. 


VII.     33 

As  Alengon  moved, 
On  his  crown-crested  *  helm  with  ponderous  blow 
Fell  Gladdisdale's  huge  mace.     Back  he  recoil'd 
Astounded  5  soon  recovering,  his  keen  lance 
Thrust  on  the  warrior's  shield  :  there  fast-inflx'd, 
Nor  could  Alenc,  on  the  deep  driven  spear 
Recover,  nor  the  foeman  from  his  grasp 
Wrench  the  contended  weapon.     Fierce  again 
He  lifts  the  mace,  that  on  the  ashen  hilt 
Fell  full  -,  it  shiver'd,  and  the  Frenchman  held 
A  pointless  truncheon.     Where  the  Bastard  fought 
The  spear  of  Poynings,  thro*  his  plated  mai 
Pierced,  and  against  the  +  iron  fence  beneath 
Blunted  its  point.     Again  he  speeds  the  spear ; 


*  Earls  and  Dukes  frequently  wore  their  coronets  on  the 
crests  of  their  helmets.  At  the  battle  of  Azincour,  Henry 
wore  "  a  bright  helmet,  whereupon  was  set  a  crowne  of  gold, 
repleate  with  pearle  and  precious  stones,  marvellous  rich." 

Stowe. 

f  A  breast-plate  was  sometimes  worn  under  the  hauberk, 

vol.  11.  D 


VII.     54 

At  once  Dunois  on  his  broad  buckler  bears 
The  unharming  stroke,  and  aims  with  better  fate 
His  javelin.     Thro*  his  sword-arm  did  it  pierce 
Maugre  the  mail.     Hot  from  the  streaming  wound 
Again  the  weapon  fell,  and  in  his  breast 
Even  thro*  the  hauberk  drove. 

But  there  the  war 
Raged  fiercest  where  the  martial  Maiden  moved 
The  minister  of  wrath  -,  for  thither  throng'd 
The  bravest  champions  of  the  adverse  host. 
And  on  her  either  side  two  warriors  stood 
Of  unmatched  prowess,  still  with  eager  eye 
Shielding  her  form,  and  aiming  at  her  foes 
Their  deadly  weapons,  of  themselves  the  while 
Little  regarding.     One  was  that  bold  man 
Who  bade  defiance  to  the  English  Chiefs. 
Firmly  he  stood,  untir'd  and  undismayed, 
Tho'  on  his  burgonet  the  frequent  spear 
Drove  fierce,  and  on  his  arm  the  buckler  hung 
Heavy,  thick-bristled  with  the  hostile  shafts, 


VII.     55 

Even  like  the  porcupine  when  in  his  rage 

Rous'd,  he  collects  within  him  all  his  force/ 

Himself  a  quiver.     And  of  loftier  port 

On  the  other  hand  towered  Conrade.     Firmly  fenced, 

A  jazerent  of  double  mail  he  wore, 

Beneath  whose  weight  one  but  of  common  strength 

Had  sunk.     Untir'd  the  conflict  he  endur'd, 

Wielding  a  battle-axe  ponderous  and  keen, 

That  gave  no  second  stroke ;  for  where  it  fell, 

Not  the  strong  buckler  nor  the  plated  mail 

Might  save,  nor  crested  casque.     On  Molyn's  head* 

As  at  the  Maid  he  aimed  his  javelin, 

Forceful  it  fell,  and  shiver'd  with  the  blow 

The  iron  helm,  and  to  his  brain-pan  drove 

The  fragments.     At  their  comrades  death  amaz'd, 

And  for  a  moment  fearful  shrunk  the  foes. 

That  instant  Conrade,  with  an  *  active  bound, 


*  The  nature  of  this  barrier  has  been  explained  in  a  previous 
note.    Jhe  possibility  of  leaping  upon  it  is  exemplified  in  the 
D  2 


VII.     56 

Sprung  on  the  battlements  5  there  firm  he  stood, 
Guarding  ascent.     The  Herald  and  the  Maid 


.following  adventure,  characteristic  enough  of  the  period  in 
Which  it  happened  (1370),  to  merit  preservation. 

(i  At  that  time  there  was  done  an  extraordinary  feat  of  arms 
by  a  Scotch  Knight,  named  Sir  John  Assueton,  being  one  of 
those  men  of  arms  of  Scotland,  who  had  now  entered  King 
Edward's  pay.  This  man  left  his  rank  with  his  spear  in  his 
hand,  his  Page  riding  behind  him,  and  went  towards  the  bar- 
riers of  Noyon,  where  he  alighted,  saying,  "  here  hold  my 
horse,  and  stir  not  from  hence  ;"  and  so  he  came  to  the  bar- 
riers. There  were  there  at  that  time  Sir  John  de  Roye,  and 
Sir  Lancelot  de  Lorris  with  ten  or  twelve  more,  who  all  won- 
dered what  this  Knight  designed  to  do.  He  for  his  part  being 
close  at  the  barriers  said  unto  them,  <f  Gentlemen,  I  am  come 
hither  to  visit  you,  and  because  I  see  you  will  not  come  forth 
of  your  barriers  to  me,  I  will  come  in  to  you,  if  I  may,  and 
prove  my  Knighthood  against  you.  Win  me  if  you  can." 
And  with  that  he  leaped  over  the  bars,  and  began  to  lay  about 
him  like  a  lion,  he  at  them  and  they  at  him ;  so  that  he  alone 
fought  thus  against  them  all  for  near  the  space  of  an  hour, 
and  hurt  several  of  them.  And  all  the  while  those  of  the 
town  beheld  with  much  delight  from  the  walls  and  their  garret 
windows  his  great  activity,  strength  and  courage;  but  they 
offered  not  to  do  him  any  hurt,  as  they  might  very  easily  have 
done,  if  they  had  been  minded  to  cast  stones  or  darts  at  him : 


VII.     57 

Followed,  and  soon  the  exulting  cry  of  France 
Along  the  lists  was  heard,  as  waved  aloft 
The  holy  banner.     Gladdisdale  heheld, 
And  hasting  from  his  well-defended  post, 
Sped  to  the  fiercer  conflict.     To  the  Maid 
He  strode,  on  her  resolved  to  wreak  his  rage, 
With  her  to  end  the  war.     Nor  did  not  JOAN 
Areed  his  purpose :  lifting  up  her  shield 
Prepar'd  she  stood,  and  pois'd  her  sparkling  spear. 


but  the  French  Knights  charged  them  to  the  contrary,  saying 
"  how  they  should  let  them  alone  to  deal  with  him."  When 
matters  had  continued  thus  about  an  hour,  the  Scotch  Page 
came  to  the  barriers  with  his  master's  horse  in  his  hand,  and 
said  in  his  language,  "  Sir,  pray  come  away,  it  is  high  time 
for  you  to  leave  off  now  :  for  the  army  is  marched  off  out  of 
sight."  The  Knight  heard  his  man,  and  then  gave  two  or 
three  terrible  strokes  about  him  to  clear  the  way,  and  so, 
armed  as  he  was,  he  leaped  back  again  over  the  barriers  and 
mounted  his  horse,  having  not  received  any  hurt;  and  turning 
to  the  Frenchmen,  said  H  Adieu  Sirs  !  I  thank  you  for  my 
diversion."  And  with  that  he  rode  after  his  man  upon  the 
spur  towards  the  army. 

Joshua  Barnes. 
D3        - 


VII.     58 

The  English  Chief  came  on  ;  he  raised  his  mace, 
With  circling,  force,  the  iron  weight  *  swung  high 
As  Gladdisdale  with  his  collected  might 


*  Le  massue  est  un  baton  gros  comme  le  bras,  ayant  a  Tun 

de  ses  bouts  une  forte  courroie  pour  tenir  l'arme  et  l'empecher 

de  glisser,  et  a  1'autre  trois  chainons  de  fer,  auxquels  pend  un 

boulet  pesant  huit  livres.     II  n'y  a  pas  d'homme  aujourd'hui 

capable  de  manier  une  telle  arme. 

Le  Grand. 

The  arms  of  the  Medici  family  "  are  romantically  referred 
to  Averardo  de  Medici,  a  commander  under  Charlemagne, 
who  for  his  valour  in  destroying  the  gigantic  plunderer  Mu- 
gello,  by  whom  the  surrounding  country  was  laid  waste,  was 
honoured  with  the  privilege  of  bearing  for  his  arms  six  palle  or 
balls,  as  characteristic  of  the  iron  balls  that  hung  from  the 
rhace  of  his  fierce  antagonist,  the  impression  of  which  remain- 
ed on  his  shield." 

Roscoe. 

Scudery  enumerates  the  mace  among  the  instruments  of  war, 
in  a  passage  whose  concluding  line  may  vie  with  any  bathos  of 
Sir  Richard  Blackmore. 

La  confusement  frappent  de  toutes  parts 
Pierres,  piques,  espieux,  masses,  fleches  et  dards, 
Lances  et  javelots,  sabres  et  marteaux  d'armes, 
Vangercases  instruments  des  guerriercs  alarmes. 

Alavic. 


VII.     59 

Drove  the  full  blow.     The  man  of  lowly  line 
That  instant  rush'd  between,  and  rear'd  his  shield 
And  met  the  broken  blow,  and  thrust  his  lance 
Fierce  thro*  the  gorget  of  the  English  Knight. 
A  gallant  man,  of  no  ignoble  line, 
Was  Gladdisdale.     His  sires  had  lived  in  peace, 
They  heap'd  the  hospitable  hearth,  they  spread 
The  feast,  their  vassals  loved  them,  and  afar 
The  traveller  told  their  fame.     In  peace  they  died  \ 
For  them  the  venerable  fathers  pour'd 
A  requiem  when  they  slept,  and  o'er  them  rais'd 
The  sculptured  monument.     Now  far  away 
Their  offspring  falls,  the  last  of  all  his  race, 
Slain  in  a  foreign  land,  and  doom'd  to  share 
The  common  grave. 

Then  terror  seiz'd  the  host, 
Their.  Chieftain  dead.     And  lo  !  where  on  the  wall, 
Bulwark'd  of  late  by  Gladdisdale  so  well, 
The  son  of  Orleans  stood,  and  swayed  around 
His  falchion,  keeping  thus  at  bay  the  foe, 
D4 


VII.     60 

Till  on  the  battlements  his  comrades  sprang, 
And  rais'd  the  shout  of  conquest.     Then  appall'd 
The  English  fled :  nor  fled  they  unpursued, 
For  mingling  with  the  foremost  fugitives, 
The  gallant  Conrade  rush'd  ;  and  with  the  throng, 
The  Knights  of  France  together  o'er  the  bridge; 
Fast  speeded.     Nor  the  garrison  within 
Durst  let  the  ponderous  portcullis  fall, 
For  in  the  entrance  of  the  fort  the  fight 
Baged  fiercely,  and  together  thro'  the  gate 
The  vanquished  English  and  their  eager  foes 
Pass'd  in  the  flying  conflict. 

Well  I  deem 
And  wisely  did  that  daring  Spaniard  act 
At  Vera-Cruz,  when  he  his  yet  sound  ships 
Dismantling,  left  no  spot  where  treacherous  Fear 
Might  still  with  wild  and  wistful  eye  look  back. 
For  knowing  no  retreat,  his  desperate  troops 
In  conquest  sought  their  safety.     Victors  hence 
At  Tlascala,  and  o'er  the  Cholulans, 


vir.  m 

And  by  Otompan,  on  that  bloody  field 
When  Mexico  her  patriot  thousands  pour'd, 
Fierce  in  vain  valour  on  their  ruffian  foes. 
There  was  a  portal  to  the  English  fort 
That  opened  on  the  *  wall  5  a  speedier  path 
In  the  hour  of  safety,  whence  the  charmed  eye 
Might  linger  down  the  river's  pleasant  course. 


*  Vitruvius  observes,  in  treating  upon  fortified  walls,  that 
near  the  towers  the  walls  should  be  cut  within-side  the  breadth 
of  the  tower,  and  that  the  ways  broke  in  this  manner  should 
only  be  joined  and  continued  by  beams  laid  upon  the  two  ex- 
tremities, without  being  made  fast  with  iron  ;  that  in  case  the 
enemy  should  make  himself  master  of  any  part  of  the  wall, 
the  besieged  might  remove  this  wooden  bridge,  and  thereby 
prevent  his  passage  to  the  other  parts  of  the  wall  and  into  the 

towers. 

Rollin.. 

The  precaution  recommended  by  Vitruvius  had  not  been  ob- 
served in  the  construction  of  the  English  walls.  On  each  side 
cf  every  tower,  a  small  door  opened  upon  the  wall ;  and  the 
garrison  of  one  tower  are  represented  in  the  poem  as  flying  by 
this  way  from  one  to  shelter  themselves  in  the  other.  With 
the  enterprising  spirit  and  the  defensive  arms  of  chivalry,  the 
subsequent  events  will  not  be  found  to  exceed  probability. 
D  5 


VII.     62 

Fierce  in  the  gate- way  raged  the  deadly  war  ; 
For  there  the  Maiden  strove,  and  Conrade  there, 
And  he  of  lowly  line,  bravelier  than  whom 
Fought  not  in  that  day's  battle.     Of  success 
Desperate,  for  from  above,  the  garrison 
Could  wield  no  arms,  so  certain  to  bestow 
Equal  destruction,  of  the  portal's  aid 
The  foe  bethought  them  :  then  with  lesser  force 
Their  weapons  fell ;  abandoned  was  the  gate ; 
And  soon  from  Orleans  the  glad  citizens 
Beheld  the  hallowed  banner  on  the  tower 
Triumphant.     Swift  along  the  lofty  wall 
The  English  haste  to  St.  John's  neighbouring  fort, 
Flying  with  fearful  speed.     Nor  from  pursuit 
The  victors  ceased,  but  with  the  fugitives 
Mingled  and  waged  the  war :  the  combatants, 
Lock'd  in  the  hostile  grasp,  together  fall 
Precipitate. 

But  foremost  of  the  French, 
Dealing  destruction,  Conrade  rush'd  along ; 


VII.     63 

Heedless  of  danger,  he  to  the  near  fort 

Pass'd  in  the  fight  3  nor  did  not  then  the  Chief 

What  most  might  serve  bethink  him  :  firm  he  stood 

In  the  portal,  and  one  moment  looking  back 

Lifted  his  loud  voice  :  thrice  the  warrior  cried, 

Then  to  the  war  addrest  him,  now  assail'd 

By  numerous  foes,  who  arrogant  of  power 

Threatened  his  single  valour.     He  the  while 

Stood  firm,  not  vainly  confident,  or  rash, 

But  of  his  own  strength  conscious,  and  the  post 

Friendly  5  for  narrow  was  the  portal  way 

To  one  alone  fit  passage,  from  above 

O'erbrow'd  by  no  out-jutting  *  parapet, 

Whence  death  might  crush  him.     He  in  double  mail 


*  The  machicolation:  a  projection  over  the  gate-way  of  a 
town  or  castle,  contrived  for  letting  fall  great  weights,  scalding 
water,  &c.  on  the  heads  of  any  assailants  who  might  have  got 
close  to  the  gate.  u  Machecollare,  or  machecoulare,  says 
Coke,  is  to  make  a  warlike  device  over  a  gate  or  other  passage 
like  to  a  grate,  through  which  scalding  water,  or  ponderous  or 
offensive  things  may  be  cast  upon  the  assaylants." 
d6 


VII.     64 

Was  arm'd ;  a  massy  burgonet,  well  tried 

In  many  a  hard-fought  field,  helming  his  head  ; 

A  buckler  broad,  and  fenced  with  iron  plates, 

Bulwark'd  his  breast.     Nor  to  dislodge  the  Chief 

Could  the  English  pour  their  numbers,  for  the  way 

By  upward  steps  presented  from  the  fort 

Narrow  ascent,  where  one  alone  could  meet 

The  war.     Yet  were  they  of  their  numbers  proud, 

Tho'  useless  numbers  were  in  that  strait  path, 

Save  by  assault  unceasing  to  out-last 

A  single  warrior,  who  at  length  must  sink 

Fatigued  with  conquering,  by  long  victory 

Vanquish'd. 

There  was  amid  the  garrison 
A  fearless  Knight  who  at  Verneuil  had  fought, 
And  high  renown  for  his  bold  chivalry 
Acquired  in  that  day's  conquest.     To  his  fame 
The  thronging  English  yield  the  foremost  place. 
He  his  long  javelin  to  transpierce  the  Frank 
Thrust  forceful ;  harmless  in  his  shield  it  hVd, 


VII.     65 

Advantaging  the  foe,  for  Conrade  lifts 
The  battle-axe,  and  smote  upon  the  lance 
And  *  huiTd  its  severed  point  with  mighty  arm 


*  I  have  met  with  one  instance  in  the  English  history,  and 
only  one,  of  throwing  the  spear  after  the  manner  of  the  an- 
cients. It  is  in  Stowe's  chronicle.  te  1442.  The  30th  of 
January,  a  challenge  was  done  in  Smithfield  within  lists,  be- 
fore the  King;  the  one  Sir  Philip  de  Beawse  of  Arragon  a 
Knight,  and  the  other  an  Esquire  of  the  King's  house  called 
John  Ausley  or  Astley.  These  comming  to  the  fielde,  tooke 
their  tents,  and  there  was  the  Knight's  Sonne  made  Knight  by 
the  King,  and  so  brought  again  to  his  father's  tent.  Then 
the  Heralds  of  Armes  called  them  by  name  to  doe  their  bat- 
tell,  and  so  they  came  both,  all  armed,  with  their  weapons; 
the  Knight  came  with  his  sword  drawn,  and  the  Esquire  with 
his  speare.  The  Esquire  cast  his  speare  against  the  Knight, 
but  the  Knight  avoiding  it  with  his  sword,  cast  it  to  the 
ground.  Then  the  Esquire  took  his  axe  and  went  against  the 
Knight  suddenly,  on  whom  he  stroke  many  strokes,  hard  and 
sore  upon  his  basenet,  and  on  his  hand,  and  made  him  loose 
and  let  fall  his  axe  to  the  ground,  and  brast  up  his  limbes 
three  times,  and  caught  his  dagger  and  would  have  smitten 
him  in  the  face,  for  to  have  slaine  him  in  the  field ;  and  then 
the  King  cried  hoo,  and  so  they  were  departed  and  went  to 
their  tents,  and  the  King  dubbed  John  Astley  Knight  for  his 
valiant  Torney,  and  the  Knight  of  Arragon  offered  his  armes 
at  Windsor." 


VII.     66 

Fierce  on  the  foe.     With  wary  bend,  the  foe 
Shrunk  from  the  flying  death  5  yet  not  in  vain 
From  that  strong  hand  the  fate-fraught  weapon  fled  : 
Full  on  the  *  corselet  of  a  meaner  man 
It  fell,  and  pierced,  there  where  the  heaving  lungs, 
With  purer  air  distended,  to  the  heart 
Roll  back  their  purged  tide  :  from  the  deep  wound 
The  red  blood  gusrTd  :  prone  on  the  steps  he  fell, 
And  in  the  strong  convulsive  grasp  of  death 
Grasp'd  his  long  pike.     Of  unrecorded  name 
Died  the  mean  man ;  yet  did  he  leave  behind 
One  who  did  never  say  her  daily  prayers, 
Of  him  forgetful ;  who  to  every  tale 
Of  the  distant  war,  lending  an  eager  ear, 
Grew  pale  and  trembled.     At  her  cottage  door, 
The  wretched  one  shall  sit,  and  with  dim  eye 
Gaze  o'er  the  plain,  where  on  his  parting  steps 
Her  last  look  hung.     Nor  ever  shall  she  know 
Her  husband  dead,  but  tortur'd  with  vain  hope, 


*  The  corselet  was  chiefly  worn  by  pikemen. 


■VII.     6? 

Gaze  on — then  heart- sick  turn  to  her  poor  babe, 
And  weep  it  fatherless  ! 

The  exasperate  Knight 
Drew  his  keen  falchion,  and  with  dauntless  step 
Moved  to  the  closer  conflict.     Then  the  Frank 
Held  forth  his  buckler,  and  his  battle  axe 
Uplifted.     Where  the  buckler  was  below 
Rounded,  the  falchion  struck,  but  impotent 
To  pierce  its  plated  folds  5  more  forceful  driven, 
Fierce  on  his  crested  helm,  the  Frenchman's  stroke 
Fell ;  the  helm  shivered  ;  from  his  eyes  the  blood 
Started  5  with  blood  the  chambers  of  the  brain 
Were  fUl'd ;  his  breast-plate  with  convulsive  throes, 
Heaved  at  he  fell ;  victorious,  he  the  prize 
At  many  a  tournament  had  borne  away 
In  the  mimic  war  :  happy,  if  so  content 
With  bloodless  glory,  he  had  never  left 
The  mansion  of  his  sires. 

But  terrified 
The  English  stood,  nor  durst  adventure  now 


vir.   es 

Near  that  death-doing  man.     Amid  their  host 
Was  one  who  well  could  from  the  stubborn  bow 
Shower  his  sharp  shafts  :  well  skill' d  in  wood-craft  he^ 
Even  as  the  merry  Outlaws  who  their  haunts 
In  Sherwood  held,  and  bade  their  bugles  rouse 
The  sleeping  stag,  ere  on  the  web-woven  grass 
The  dew-dops  sparkled  to  the  rising  sun. 
He  safe  in  distance  at  the  warrior  aim'd 
The  feather* d  dart ;  with  force  he  drew  the  bow  -7 
Loud  on  his  bracer  struck  the  sounding  string  : 
And  swift  and  strong  the  well-winged  arrow  fled.- 
Deep  in  his  shield  it  hung  j  then  Conrade  rais'd 
Again  his  echoing  voice,  and  call'd  for  aid, 
Nor  was  the  call  unheard  5  the  troops  of  France,. 
From  St.  Loup's  captur'd  fort  along  the  wall 
Haste  to  the  portal  3  cheering  was  the  sound 
Of  their  near  footsteps  to  the  Chief ;  he  drew 
His  falchion  forth,  and  down  the  steps  he  rush'd. 
Then  terror  seized  the  English,  for  their  foes 
Swarm'd  thro'  the  open  portal,  and  the  sword 


VII.     69 

Of  Conrade  was  among  them.     Not  more  fierce 
The  injur'd  Turnus  swayed  his  angry  arm, 
Slaughtering  the  robber  fugitives  of  Troy  ; 
Nor  with  more  fury  thro'  the  streets  of  Paris 
Ilush'd  the  fierce  King  of  Sarza,  Rodomont 
Clad  in  his  dragon  mail. 

Like  some  tall  rock, 
Around  whose  billow-beaten  foot  the  waves 
Waste  their  wild  fury,  stood  the  unshaken  man  \ 
Tho'  round  him  prest  his  foemen,  by  Despair 
Hearten' d.     He,  mowing  thro'  the  throng  his  path, 
Call'd  on  the  troops  of  France,  and  bade  them  haste 
Where  he  should  lead  the  way.     A  daring  band 
Followed  the  adventurous  Chieftain  :  he  moved  on 
Unterrified,  amid  the  arrowy  shower, 
Tho'  on  his  shield  and  helm  the  darts  fell  fast 
As  the  sear'd  leaves  that  from  the  trembling  tree 
The  autumnal  whirlwind  shakes. 

Nor  Conrade  paus'd. 
Still  thro'  the  fierce  fight  urging  on  his  way, 


V1L     70 

Till  to  the  gate  he  came,  and  with  strong  hand 

Seiz'd  on  the  massy  bolts.     These  as  he  drew, 

Full  on  his  helm  the  weighty  English  sword 

Descended ;  swift  he  turn'd  to  wreak  his  wrath. 

When  lo !  the  assailant  gasping  on  the  ground, 

Cleft  by  the  Maiden's  falchion :   she  herself 

To  the  foe  opposing  with  that  lowly  man, 

For  they  alone  following  the  adventurous  steps 

Of  Conrade,  still  had  equall'd  his  bold  course, 

Shielded  him  as  with  eager  hand  he  drew 

The  bolts  :  the  gate  turn'd  slow :  forth  leapt  the  Chief 

And  shivered  with  his  battle-axe  the  chains 

That  hung  on  high  the  bridge.   The  impetuous  troops, 

By  Gaucour  led,  rush'd  o'er  to  victory. 

The  banner' d  lilies  on  the  captur'd  wall 
Tossed  to  the  wind.     u  On  to  the  neighbouring  fort  !'* 
Cried  Conrade,  u  Xaintrailles  !  ere  the  night  draws  on 
"  Once  more  to  conquest  lead  the  troops  of  France  ! 
"  Force  ye  the  lists,  and  fill  the  deep-dug  moat, 


VII..   71 

".And  with  the  ram,  9hake  down  their  batter'd  walisv 
"  Anon  I  shall  be  with  you."    Thus  he  said  $ 
Then  to  the  Damsel.     "  Maid  of  Arc  !  awhile 
<e  Cease  we  from  battle,  and  by  short  repose 
(c  Renew  our  strength.'*     So  saying  he  his  helm 
Unlaced,  and  in  the  Loire's  near  flowing  stream 
Cool'd  his  hot  face.     The  Maid  her  head  unhelm'd, 
And  stooping  to  the  stream,  reflected  there 
Saw  her  white  plumage  stain'd  with  human  blood  \ 
Shuddering  she  saw,  but  soon  her  steady  soul 
Collected  :  on  the  banks  she  laid  her  down, 
Freely  awhile  respiring,  for  her  breath 
Quick  panted  from  the  fight :  silent  they  lay, 
For  gratefully  the  cooling  breezes  bathed 
Their  throbbing  temples. 

It  was  now  the  noon : 
The  sun-beams  on  the  gently-waving  stream 
Danced  sparkling.     Lost  in  thought  the  warrior  lay^ 
Then  as  his  countenance  relaxed  he  cried, 
*c  Maiden  of  Arc  !  at  such  an  hour  as  this, 


VII.     72 

*■  Beneath  the  o'er-aching  forests  checquer'd  shade, 

"  With  that  lost  woman  have  I  wandered  on, 

"  Talking  of  years  of  happiness  to  come ! 

"  Oh  hours  for  ever  fled  !  delightful  dreams 

"  Of  the  unsuspecting  heart !  I  do  believe 

rr  If  Agnes  on  a  worthier  one  had  fix'd 

"  Her  love,  that  tho*  mine  aching  heart  had  nurst 

**  Its  sorrows,  I  had  never  on  her  choice 

"  Pour'd  one  upbraiding — but  to  stoop  to  him  t 

((  A  harlot ! — an  adulteress  1" 

In  his  eye 
Red  anger  flash' d ;  anon  of  what  she  was 
Ere  yet  the  foul  pollution  of  the  Court 
Stain'd  her  fair  fame,  he  thought.    "  Oh  happy  age  !'* 
He  cried,  "  when  ail  the  family  of  man 
"  Freely  enjoyed  their  goodly  heritage, 
"  And  only  bow'd  the  knee  in  prayer  to  God ! 
«  Calm  flow'd  the  unruffled  stream  of  years  along, 
«  Till  o'er  the  peaceful  rustic's  head,  the  hair 
"  Grew  grey  in  full  of  time.     Then  he  would  sit 


VII.     73 

*<  Beneath  the  coetaneous  oak,  whilst  round, 

<c  Sons,  grandsons  and  their  offspring  join'd  to  form 

"  The  blameless  merriment ;  and  learnt  of  him 

"  What,  time  to  yoke  the  oxen  to  the  plough, 

"  What  hollow  moanings  of  the  western  wind 

"  Foretel  the  storm,  and  in  what  lurid  clouds 

"  The  embryo  lightning  lies.  Well  pleas'd,  he  taught, 

"  The  heart-smile  glowing  on  his  aged  cheek, 

u  Mild  as  the  summer's  sun's  decaying  light. 

<(  Thus  quietly  the  stream  of  life  flow'd  on 

<c  Till  in  the  shoreless  ocean  lost  at  length. 

<(  Around  the  bed  of  death  his  numerous  race 

u  Listen'd,  in  no  unprofitable  grief, 

*'  His  last  advice,  and  caught  his  latest  sigh  : 

"  And  when  he  died,  as  he  had  fallen  asleep, 

'•'  Beneath  the  aged  tree  that  grew  with  him 

(<  They  delved  the  narrow  house  :  there  oft  at  eve 

u  Drew  round  their  children  of  the  after  days, 

"  And  pointing  to  the  turf,  told  how  he  lived, 

<(  And  taught  by  his  example  how  to  die. 


VII.     74 

"  Maiden !  and  such  the  evening  of  my  days 

(i  Fondly  I  hoped;  and  *  would  that  I  had  lived 

€<  In  those  old  times,  or  till  some  better  years 

t(  Slumber'd  unborn ;  for  this  is  a  hard  race, 

u  An  evil  generation  !  nor  by  day 

€€  Nor  in  the  night  have  respite  from  their  cares 

"  And  wretchedness.     But  I  shall  be  at  rest 

"  Soon,  in  that  better  world  of  Peace  and  Love 

"  Where  evil  is  not :  in  that  better  world 

"  JOAN !  we  shall  meet,  and  he  too  will  be  there, 

«  Thy  Theodore." 

Sooth' d  by  his  words,  the  Maid 
Had  listened  sadly,  till  at  that  loved  name 
She  wept.    "  Nay,  Maid !"  he  cried,  "  I  did  not  think 


*  My}kst   weit*  wtpstXov  tyw  ^t^irroia-i  [astsivo.1 

Nw  yxp  %vi  yzvos  scrrt  aioypEoV  hoettot   ^[axp 
Ylxvaovrxi  Koc^xm  xxt  oifyos,  x$e  ri  WKTvg, 

<p9zigQ{AV,/0t. 


HIIOAOS. 


VII.     75 


<c  To  wake  a  tear  -,  but  pleasant  is  thy  grief ! 
"  Thou  knowest  not  what  it  is,  around  thy  heart 
6 '  To  have  a  false  one  wreath  in  viper  folds. 
"  But  to  the  battle  !  in  the  clang  of  arms, 
"  We  win  forgetfulness." 

Then  from  the  bank 
He  sprung,  and  helm'd  his  head.     The  Maid  arose, 
Bidding  awhile  adieu  to  milder  thoughts. 
On  to  the  fort  they  speed,  whose  name  recall'd 
England's  proud  capital  to  the  English  host, 
^Now  half  subdued,  anticipating  death, 
And  vainly  wishing  they  from  her  white  clifts 
Had  never  spread  the  sail.     Cold  terror  creeps 
Thro*  every  vein :  already  they  turn  back 
Their  eager  eyes  to  meditate  the  flight, 
Tho'  Talbot  there  presided,  with  their  Chiefs 
The  gallant  Salisbury. 

"  Soldiers  tried  in  arms  !" 
Thus,  in  vain  hope  to  renovate  the  strength 
Of  England,  spake  the  Chief,  "  Victorious  friends. 


VII.     76 

<e  So  oft  victorious  in  the  hard-fought  fight, 

"  What— shrink  ye  now  dismay'd  ?  have  ye  forgot 

<e  The  plains  of  Agincourt,  when  vanquished  France 

"  Fled  with  her  thousands  from  your  father's  arms  ? 

"  Have  ye  forgotten  how  our  English  swords, 

u  On  that  illustrious  day  before  Verneuil, 

"  Cut  down  the  flower  of  all  their  chivalry  ? 

t€  Then  was  that  noble  heart  *  of  Douglas  pierced, 


*  The  heart  of  Bruce  was,  by  his  own  dying-will,  entrusted 
to  Douglas  to  bear  it  to  Jerusalem.  This  is  one  of  the  finest 
stories  in  the  whole  period  of  chivalrous  history.  Douglas  in- 
shrined  the  heart  in  a  golden  case,  and  wore  it  round  his  neck ; 
he  landed  in  Spain  on  his  way,  and  stopt  to  assist  the  Castili- 
ans  against  the  Moors, — probably  during  the  siege  of  Algeziras. 
There  in  the  heat  of  action  he  took  the  heart  from  his  neck  and 
cast  it  into  the  thick  of  the  enemy,  exclaiming,  as  Barbour 
has  it, 

u  Now  pass  thou  forth  before 

"  As  thou  wast  wont  in  fight  to  be, 

fi  And  I  shall  follow  or  else  die." 

In  this  action  he  perished,  and  from  that  time  the  Bloody  Heart 
has  been  borne  by  the  family. 


VII.     77 

fi  Bold  Buchan  bit  the  earth,  and  Narbonne  died, 

"  And  this  Alengon,  boaster  as  he  is, 

<{  Cried  mercy  to  his  conqueror.     Shall  I  speak 

"  Of  our  victorious  banner  on  the  walls 

<f  Of  Yenville  and  Baugenci  triumphing  \ 

"  And  of  that  later  hour  of  victory 

u  When  Clermont  and  the  Bastard  plied  their  spurs  ? 

"  Shame  !  shame !  that  beaten  Boy  is  here  in  arms, 

"  And  ye  will  fly  before  the  fugitives  5 

"  Fly  from  a  woman  !  from  a  frantic  girl ! 

"  Who  with  her  empty  mummeries  tries  to  blast 

"  Your  courage  $  or  if  miracles  she  brings, 

"  Aid  of  the  Devil !  who  is  there  among  you 

<(  False  to  his  country — to  his  former  fame — - 

u  To  your  old  leader  who  so  many  a  time 

"  Hath  led  ye  on  to  glory  ?" 

From  the  host 
A  heartless  shout  arose  5  then  Talbot's  cheek 
Grew  red  with  indignation.     "  Earl  !"  said  he, 
Addressing  Salisbury :  "  there  is  no  hope 

VOL.  II.  E 


VII.     78 

u  From  these  white-liver' d  dastards  ;  and  this  fort 
tc  Will  fall  an  easy  conquest :  we  must  out 
"  And  gain  the  Tournelles,  better  fortified, 
"  Fit  to  endure  long  siege  :  the  hope  in  view 
(C  To  reach  a  safer  fortress,  these  our  troops 
"  Shall  better  dare  the  battle." 

So  he  spake, 
Wisely  advising.     Him  the  Chief  replied  : 
rr  Well  hast  thou  said:  and,  Talbot,  if  our  swords 
"  Could  thro'  the  thickest  ranks  this  Sorceress  reach, 
a  The  hopes  of  France  were  blasted.     I  have  fought 
*'  In  many  a  field,  yet  never  to  a  foe 
*f  Stoop'd  my  proud  crest :  nor  difficult  to  meet 
**  This  wizard  girl,  for  from  the  battlements, 
"  I  have  beheld  her  foremost  in  attack, 
"  Playing  right  valiantly  the  soldier's  part  5 
"  Yet  shall  not  all  her  witcheries  avail 
*'  To  blunt  my  good  sword's  edge.'* 

Thus  communed  they, 
And  thro'  the  host  the  gladdening  tidings  ran, 


'VII.     79 

That  they  should  seek  the  Tournelles.     Then  their 

hearts 
Gathered  new  strength,  placing  on  those  strong  walls 
Dependence ;  empty  hope !  nor  the  strong  wall, 
Nor  the  deep  moat  can  save,  if  Fear  within 
Palsy  the  soldier's  arm. 

Them  issuing  forth, 
As  from  the  river's  banks  they  past  along, 
The  Maid  beheld  !  "  Lo  !  Conrade!"  she  exclaim^ 
<(  The  foes  advance  to  meet  us — look  !  they  lower 
u  The  bridge — and  now  they  rush  upon  the  troops  : 
"  A  gallant  onset !  Dost  thou  mark  the  man 
"  Who  all  the  day  has  by  our  side  endur'd 
*  The  hottest  conflict?  I  did  then  behold 
a  His  force,  and  wonder :  now  his  deeds  of  death 
f *  Make  all  the  actions  of  the  former  fight 
<c  Seem  as  of  no  account :  knowest  thou  him  ? 
w  There  is  not  one  amid  the  host  of  France, 
"  Of  fairer  promise." 

"  He/'  the  Chief  replied, 
e2 


VII.     80 

H  Wretched  and  prodigal  of  life  atchieves 

"  The  exploits  of  Despair  :  a  gallant  youth, 

€(  Widowed  like  me  of  Hope/  and  but  for  whom, 

"  I  had  been  seen  among  mankind  no  more. 

"  Maiden  !   with  me  thy  comrade  in  the  war, 

<c  His  arm  is  vowed  to  Heaven.    Lo  !  wlide  he  stands 

"  Bearing  the  battle's  brunt  in  unmoved  strength, 

u  Firm  as  the  mountain  round  whose  misty  head, 

"  The  unharming  tempest  breaks  !" 

Nor  paus'd  they  now 
In  farther  converse,  to  the  perilous  fray 
Speeding,  not  unobserved ;  them  Salisbury  saw 
And  call'd  on  Talbot.     Six,  the  bravest  Knights 
And  vow'd  with  them  against  the  Virgin's  life, 
Bent  their  fierce  course.     She  by  the  Herald's  side 
Now  urged  the  war,  when  on  her  plumed  helm 
The  hostile  falchion  fell.     On  high  she  lifts 
Her  hallowed  sword,  the  tenant  of  the  tomb, 
And  drench'd  it  in  his  bosom.     Conrade's  blow 
Fell  on  another,  and  the  ponderous  axe 


VII.     81 

Shattered  his  brain.     With  Talbot's  giant  force 
The  daring  Herald  urged  unequal  fight  5 
For  like  some  oak  that  firm  with  deep-fix' d  roots 
Defies  the  storm,  the  undaunted  Earl  endur'd 
His  rude  assault.     Warding  with  wary  eye 
The  angry  sword,  the  Frank  around  his  foe 
Wheels  rapid,  flashing  his  keen  weapon  fast; 
Now  as  he  marks  the  Earl's  descending  stroke 
Bending,  anon  more  fierce  in  swift  attack. 
Ill-fated  man  !  one  deed  of  glory  more 
Shall  with  the  short-lived  lightning's  splendor  grace 
This  thy  death-day  3  for  Slaughter  even  now 
Stands  o'er  the  loom  of  life,  and  lifts  his  sword. 

Upon  her  shield  the  martial  Maiden  bore 
An  English  warrior's  blow,  and  in  his  side 
Pierced  him  :  that  instant  Salisbury  speeds  his  sword 
Which  glancing  from  her  helm  fell  on  the  folds 
That  arm'd  her  neck,  and  making  there  its  way, 
Stain'd  with  her  blood  its  edge.     The  Herald  saw, 
E  3 


VII.     82 

He  saw  her  red  blood  gushing  from  the  wound, 
And  turn'd  from  Talbot  heedless  of  himself, 
And  lifting  up  his  falchion,  all  his  force 
Concenter'd.     On  the  breast  of  Salisbury 
It  fell,  and  pierced  his  mail,  and  thro*  the  plate 
Beneath  drove  fierce,  and  in  his  heartVblood  plunged, 
Lo  !  as  he  struck  the  strength  of  Talbot  came  : 
Full  on  his  treacherous  helm  he  smote  :  it  burst, 
And  the  stern  Earl  against  his  fenceless  head 
Drives  with  strong  arm  the  murderous  sword.  She  saw, 
Nor  could  the  Maiden  save  her  Theodore. 

Conrade  beheld,  and  from  his  vanquish'd  foe 
Strode  terrible  in  vengeance.     Front  to  front 
They  stood,  and  each  for  the  death-blow  prepar'd 
His  angry  might.     At  once  their  weapons  fell, 
The  Frank's  huge  battle-axe,  and  the  keen  sword 
Of  Talbot.     He,  stunn'd  by  the  weighty  blow, 
Sunk  senseless ;  by  his  followers  from  the  field 
Conveyed  with  fearful  speed  :  nor  did  his  stroke 


VII.     83 

Fall  vainly  on  the  Frenchman's  crested  helm, 
Tho'  weak  to  wound,  for  from  his  eyes  the  fire 
Sparkled,  and  back  recoiling  with  the  blow, 
He  in  the  Maiden's  arms  astounded  fell. 

But  now  their  troops  all  captainless  confus'd. 
Fear  seized  the  English.     Not  with  more  dismay- 
When  over  wild  CarTraria's  wooded  hills, 
Echoes  the  lion's  roar,  the  timid  herd 
Fly  the  death-boding  sound.     The  forts  they  seek, 
Now  reckless  which,  so  from  that  battle's  rage 
A  present  refuge.     On  their  flying  ranks 
The  victors  press,  and  mark  their  course  with  blood. 

But  loud  the  trumpet  of  retreat  resounds, 
For  now  the  westering  sun  with  many  a  hue 
Streak'd  the  gay  clouds. 

<<  Dunois  !"  the  Maiden  cried, 
u  Form  we  around  yon  stronger  pile  the  siege, 
M  There  for  the  night  encamping."     So  she  said. 


VII.     84 

The  Chief  to  Orleans  for  their  needful  food, 
And  enginery  to  batter  that  huge  pile, 
Dismissed  a  troop,  and  round  the  Tournelles  led 
The  host  beleagering.     There  they  pitch  their  tents, 
And  plant  their  engines  for  the  morrow's  war, 
Then  to  their  meal,  and  o'er  the  chearful  bowl, 
Recount  the  tale  of  danger  5  soon  to  rest 
Betaking  them,  for  now  the  night  drew  on* 


JOAN  of  ARC 


THE  EIGHTH  BOOK. 


Now  was  the  noon  of  night  j  and  all  was  still, 
Save  where  the  centinel  paced  on  his  rounds 
Humming  a  broken  song.     Along  the  camp 
High  flames  the  frequent  fire.     The  warrior  Frank*, 
On  the  hard  earth  extended,  rest  their  limbs 
Fatigued,  their  spears  lay  by  them,  and  the  shield 
Pillowed  *  the  helmed  head  :  secure  they  slept, 


•  II  n*est  rien  de  si  doux,  pour  des  coeurs  pleins  de  gioire, 
Que  la  paisible  nuit  qui  suit  une  victoire, 
Dormir  sur  un  Trophee,  est  un  charmant  repos, 
Et  le  champ  de  battaile  est  le  lict  d'un  heros. 

Scuderi/.     Aluric* 

The  night  after  a  battle  is  certainly  more  agreeable  than  th<? 
night  before  one.     A  soldier  may  use  his  shield  for  a  pillow, 
but  he  must  be  very  ingenious  to  sleep  upon  a  Trophy. 
E  5 


VIII.     85 

And  busy  Fancy  in  her  dream  renewed 
The  fight  of  yesterday. 

But  not  to  JOAN, 
But  not  to  her,  most  wretched,  came  thy  aid, 
Soother  of  sorrows,  Sleep  !  no  more  her  pulse, 
Amid  the  battle's  tumult  throbbing  fast, 
Allow'd  no  pause  for  thought.     With  clasped  hands 
And  fixed  eye  she  sat,  the  while  around 
The  Spectres  of  the  Days  departed  rose, 
A  melancholy  train  !  upon  the  gale 
The  raven's  croak  was  heard  ;  she  started  up, 
And  passing  thro'  the  camp  with  hasty  step 
Strode  to  the  field  of  blood. 

The  night  was  calm  ; 
No  brighter  moon-light  ever  silvered  o'er 
Chaldea,  while  the  watchful  shepherd's  eye 
Survey'd  the  host  of  heaven,  and  mark'd  them  rise 
Successive,  and  successively  decay, 
Lost  in  the  stream  of  light,  as  lesser  springs 
Amid  Euphrates'  current.     The  high  wall 


VIII.     87 

Cast  a  deep  shadow,  and  her  faltering  feet 
Stumbled  o'er  broken  arms  and  carcasses  j 
And  sometimes  did  she  hear  the  heavy  groan 
Of  one  yet  struggling  in  the  pangs  of  death. 
She  reach'd  the  spot  where  Theodore  had  fall'n, 
Before  fort-London's  gate  5  but  vainly  there 
Sought  she  the  youth,  on  every  clay-cold  face 
Gazing  *  with  such  a  look  as  tho'  she  fear'd 
The  thing  she  sought.     Amazement  seiz'd  the  Maid, 
For  there  the  victim  of  his  vengeful  arm, 
Known  by  the  buckler's  blazon  d  heraldry, 
Salisbury  lay  dead.     So  as  the  Virgin  stood 
Gazing  around  the  plain,  she  mark'd  a  man 
Pass  slowly  on,  as  burthened.     Him  to  aid 
She  sped,  and  soon  with  unencumbered  speed 
O'ertaking,  thus  bespake  :  "  Stranger  !  this  weight 


*  With  a  dumb  silence  seeming  that  it  fears 
The  thing  it  went  about  to  effectuate. 

DanicL 

z6 


VIII.     88 

u  Impedes  thy  progress.     Dost  thou  bear  away 
u  Some  slaughtered  friend  ?  or  lives  the  sufferer 
"  With  many  a  sore  wound  gash'd  ?  oh  !  if  he  lives> 
u  I  will,  with  earnest  prayer  petition  Heaven 
<c  To  shed  its  healing  on  him  !'* 

So  she  said, 
And  as  she  spake  stretched  forth  her  careful  hands 
To  ease  the  burthen.     "  Warrior  V*  he  replied, 
V  Thanks  for  thy  proffered  succour :  but  this  man 
"  Lives  not,  and  I  with  unassisted  arm 
u  Can  bear  him  to  the  sepulchre.     Farewell ! 
'*  The  night  is  far  advanced ;  thou  to  the  camp 
*(  Return  :  it  fits  not  darkling  thus  to  stray/' 

"  Conrade  V  the  Maid  exclaim'd,  for  well  she  knew 
?His  voice : — with  that  she  fell  upon  his  neck 
And  cried,  "  my  Theodore ! . . .  but  wherefore  thus 
"  Thro'  the  dead  midnight  dost  thou  bear  his  corse  V* 

".  Peace,  Maiden  !"  Conrade  cried,  "  collect  thy  soul ! 


VIII.     89 

"  He  is  but  gone  before  thee  to  that  world 

((  Whither  thou  soon  must  follow  !  in  the  morn,, 

"  Ere  yet  from  Orleans  to  the  war  we  went, 

u  He  pour'd  his  tale  of  sorrow  on  mine  ear. 

s<  Lo  Conrade  where  she  moves — beloved  Maid  ! 

"  Devoted  for  the  realm  of  France  she  goes 

"  Abandoning  for  this  the  joys  of  life, 

u  Yea — life  itself!"  yet  on  my  heart  her  words 

u  Vibrate.     If  she  must  perish  in  the  war, 

t(  I  will  not  live  to  bear  the  dreadful  thought, 

"  Haply  my  arm  had  saved  her.     I  shall  go 

"  Her  unknown  guardian.     Conrade,  if  I  fall, . . 

"  And  trust  me  I  have  little  love  of  life, . . 

"  Bear  me  in  secret  from  the  gory  field, 

*s  Lest  haply  I  might  meet  her  wandering  eye 

"  A  mangled  corse.     She  must  not  know  my  fate. 

"  Do  this  last  act  of  friendship — in  the  flood 

"  Whelm  me :  so  shall  she  think  of  Theodore 

"  Unanguish'd."     Maiden,  I  did  vow  with  him 

"  That  I  would  dare  the  battle  by  thy  side, 


VIII.     90 

<c  And  shield  thee  in  the  war.     I  hope  his  death 
"  Had  not  been  known  by  thee." 

As  thus  he  spake, 
He  on  the  earth  the  clay-cold  carcass  laid. 
With  steady  eye  the  wretched  Maiden  gazed 
The  life-left  tenement :  his  batter' d  arms 
Were  with  the  night- dews  damp  ;  his  brown  hair  clung 
Gore-clotted  in  the  wound,  and  one  loose  lock 
Played  o'er  his  cheeks  black  *  paleness.     '*  Gallant 

youth ! 
She  cried,  "  I  would  to  God  the  hour  were  come 
t(  When  I  might  meet  thee  in  the  bowers  of  bliss  \ 
"  No  Theodore !  the  sport  of  winds  and  waves, 
(s  Thy  body  shall  not  roll  adown  the  stream, 
"  The  sea- wolf's  banquet.     Conrade,  bear  with  me 
u  The  corse  to  Orleans,  there  in  hallowed  ground 
cf  To  rest ;  the  Priest  shall  say  the  sacred  prayer, 


*  t(  Noire  pasleur." 

Le  Moync,     St,  Louis.  Liv.  xvi. 


vnr.   91 

cc  And  hymn  the  requiem  to  his  parted  soul. 
.  «  So  shall  not  Elinor  in  bitterness 
"  Lament  that  no  dear  friend  to  her  dead  child 
"  Paid  the  last  office;' 

From  the  earth  they  lift 
The  mournful  burden,  and  along  the  plain 
Pass  with  slow  footsteps  to  the  city  gate. 
The  obedient  centinel  at  Conrade's  voice 
Admits  the  midnight  travellers  ;  on  they  pass, 
Till  in  the  neighbouring  Abbey's  porch  arrived 
They  rest  the  lifeless  load. 

Loud  rings  the  bell  j 
The  awakened  porter  turns  the  heavy  door. 
To  him  the  Virgin  !  U  Father,  from  the  slain 
4t  On  yonder  reeking  field  a  dear-loved  friend 
u  I  bring  to  holy  sepulture  :  chaunt  ye 
"  The  requiem  to  his  soul  :  to  morrow  eve 
"  Will  I  return,  and  in  the  narrow  house 
*'  Behold  him  laid  to  rest."     The  father  knew 
The  mission* d  Maid,  and  humbly  bow'd  assent. 


VIII.    92 

Now  from  the  city,  o'er  the  shadowy  plain, 

Backward  they  bend  their  way.    From  silent  thoughts 

The  Maid  awakening  cried,  "  there  was  a  time, 

"  When  thinking  on  my  closing  hour  of  life, 

u  Tho'  with  resolved  mind,  some  natural  fears 

"  Shook  the  weak  frame  :  but  now  the  happy  hour, 

"  When  my  emancipated  soul  shall  burst 

"  The  cumberous  fetters  of  mortality, 

"  Wishful  I  contemplate.     Conrade  !  my  friend, 

"  My  wounded  heart  would  feel  another  pang 

u  Should'st  thou  forsake  me  I" 

<<  JOAN!"  the  Chief  replied, 
"  Along  the  weary  pilgrimage  of  life 
"  Together  will  we  journey,  and  beguile 
tc  The  dreary  road,  telling  with  what  gay  hopes 
M  We  in  the  morning  eyed  the  pleasant  fields 
"  Vision'd  before  j  then  wish  that  we  had  reach'd 
"  The  bower  of  rest  !" 

Thus  communing  they  gain'd 
The  camp,  yet  hush'd  in  sleep  j  there  separating, 


VIII.     93 

Each  in  the  post  allotted,  restless  waits 
The  day-break. 

Morning  came  :  dim  thro*  the  shade 
The  first  rays  glimmer  -,  soon  the  brightening  clouds 
Drink  the  rich  beam,  and  o  er  the  landscape  spread 
The  dewy  light.    The  soldiers  from  the  earth 
Leap  up  invigorate,  and  each  his  food 
Receives,  impatient  to  renew  the  war. 
Dunois  his  javelin  to  the  Tournelles  points, 
«  Soldiers  of  France !  your  English  foes  are  there  !" 
As  when  a  band  of  hunters,  round  the  den 
Of  some  wood-monster,  point  their  spears,  elate 
In  hope  of  conquest  and  the  future  feast  $ 
When  on  the  hospitable  board  their  spoil 
Shall  smoak,  and  they,  as  the  rich  bowl  goes  round, 
Tell  to  their  guests  their  exploits  in  the  chase ; 
They  with  their  shouts  of  exultation  make 
The  forest  ring  \  so  elevate  of  heart, 
With  such  loud  clamours  for  the  fierce  assault 
The  French  prepare ;  nor,  guarding  now  the  lists 
Durst  the  disheartened  English  man  to  man 


VIII.    9t 

Meet  the  close  conflict.    From  the  *  barbican, 

Or  from  the  embattled  +  wall  they  their  yeugh  bows 


*  Next  the  bayle  was  the  ditch,  foss,  graff,  or  mote ;  gene- 
rally where  it  could  be  a  wet  one,  and  pretty  deep.  The  pas^ 
sage  over  it  was  by  a  draw-bridge,  covered  by  an  advance 
work  called  a  barbican.  The  barbican  was  sometimes  beyond 
the  ditch  that  covered  the  draw-bridge,  and  in  towns  and 
large  fortresses  had  frequently  a  ditch  and  draw.bridge  of  its 
own. 

Grose, 

f  The  outermost  walls  enclosing  towns  or  fortresses  were 
commonly  perpendicular,  or  had  a  very  small  external  talus. 
They  were  flanked  by  semi-circular,  polygonal,  or  square 
towers,  commonly  about  forty  or  fifty  yards  distant  from  each 
other.  Within  were  steps  to  mount  the  terre-pleine  of  the 
walls  or  rampart,  which  were  always  defended  by  an  embat- 
tled or  crenellated  parapet. 

Grose. 

The  fortifications  of  the  middle-ages  differed  in  this  respect 
from  those  of  the  ancients.  When  the  besiegers  had  gained 
the  summit  of  the  wall  the  descent  on  the  other  side  was  safe 
and  easy.  But  "  the  ancients  did  not  generally  support  their 
walls  on  the  inside  with  earth,  in  the  manner  of  the  talus  or 
slope,  which  made  the  attacks  more  dangerous.  For  though 
the  enemy  had  gained  some  footing  upon  them,  he  could  not 
assure  himself  of  taking  the  city.     It  was  necessary  to  get 


VIII.     95 

Bent  forceful/ and  their  death- fraught  enginery 
Discharged ;  nor  did  the  Gallic  archers  cease 
With  well-directed  shafts  their  loftier  foes 
To  assail :  behind  the  guardian  *  pavais  fenced, 
They  at  the  battlements  their  arrows  aim'd, 
Showering  an  iron  storm,  whilst  o'er  the  bayle, 
The  bayle  now  levell'd  by  victorious  France, 
Pass'd  the  bold  troops  with  all  their  +  mangonels  5 


down,  and  to  make  use  of  some  of  the  ladders  by  which  he 

had  mounted ;  and  that  descent  exposed  the  soldier  to  very 

great  danger." 

Rollin. 

*  The  pavais,  or  pavache,  was  a  large  shield,  or  rather  a 
portable  mantlet,  capable  of  covering  a  man  from  head  to  foot, 
and  probably  of  sufficient  thickness  to  resist  the  missive  wea- 
pons then  in  use.  These  were  in  sieges  carried  by  servants, 
whose  business  it  was  to  cover  their  masters  with  them,  whilst 
they,  with  their  bows  and  arrows,  shot  at  the  enemy  on  the 
ramparts.  As  this  must  have  been  a  service  of  danger,  it  was 
that  perhaps  which  made  the  office  of  Scutifer  honourable. 
The  pavais  was  rectangular  at  the  bottom,  but  rounded  off 

above  :   it  was  sometimes  supported  by  props. 

Grose. 

i  Mangonels  is  a  term  comprehending  all  the  smaller  engipes. 


VIII.    96 

Or  *  tortoises,  beneath  whose  roofing  safe, 


*  The  tortoise  was  a  machine  composed  of  very  strong  and 
solid  timber  work.  The  height  of  it  to  its  highest  beam, 
which  sustained  the  roof,  was  twelve  feet.  The  base  was 
square,  and  each  of  its  fronts  twenty- five  feet.  It  was  covered 
with  a  kind  of  quilted  mattress  made  of  raw  hides,  and  prepared 
with  different  drugs  to  prevent  its  being  set  on  fire  by  combus- 
tibles. This  heavy  machine  was  supported  upon  four  wheels, 
or  perhaps  upon  eight.  It  was  called  tortoise  from  its  serving 
as  a  very  strong  covering  and  defence  against  the  enormous 
weights  thrown  down  on  it;  those  under  it  being  safe  in  the 
same  manner  as  a  tortoise  under  his  shell.  It  was  used  both 
to  fill  up  the  fosse,  and  for  sapping.  It  may  not  be  improper 
to  add,  that  it  is  believed,  so  enormous  a  weight  could  not  be 
moved  from  place  to  place  on  wheels,  and  that  it  was  pushed 
forward  on  rollers.  Under  these  wheels  or  rollers,  the  way 
was  laid  with  strong  planks  to  facilitate  its  motion,  and  pre- 
vent its  sinking  into  the  ground,  from  whence  it  would  have 
been  very  difficult  to  have  removed  it.  The  ancients  have  ob- 
served that  the  roof  had  a  thicker  covering,  of  hides,  hurdles, 
sea- weed,  dec.  than  the  sides,  as  it  was  exposed  to  much  greater 
shocks  from  the  weights  thrown  upon  it  by  the  besieged.  It 
had  a  door  in  front,  which  was  drawn  up  by  a  chain  as  far  as 
was  necessary,  and  covered  the  soldiers  at  work  in  filling  up 

the  fosse  with  fascines. 

Roliin. 

This  is  the  tortoise  of  the  ancients,  but  that  of  the  middle 

ages  differed  from  it  in  nothing  material. 


VIII.     97 

They,  filling  the  deep  moat,  might  for  the  towers 
Make  fit  foundation,  or  their  petraries, 
War-wolfs,  and  beugles,  and  that  murderous  sling 
The  matafund,  from  whence  the  ponderous  stone 
Fled  fierce,  and  made  one  wound  of  whom  it  struck, 
Shattering  the  frame  so  that  no  pious  hand 
Gathering  his  mangled  limbs  might  him  convey- 
To  where  his  fathers  slept :  *  a  dreadful  train 
Prepared  by  Salisbury  over  the  sieged  town 
To  hurl  his  ruin  $  but  that  dreadful  train 


*  a  The  besiegers  having  carried  the  bayle,  brought  up  their 
machines  and  established  themselves  in  the  counterscarp,  be- 
gan under  cover  of  their  cats,  sows,  or  tortoises,  to  drain  the . 
ditch,  if  a  wet  one,  and  also  to  fill  it  up  with  hurdles  and  fascines, 
and  level  it  for  the  passage  of  their  moveable  towers.  Whilst 
this  was  doing,  the  archers,  attended  by  young  men  carrying 
shields  (pavoises),  attempted  with  their  arrows  to  drive  the 
besieged  from  the  towers  and  ramparts,  being  themselves  co- 
vered by  these  portable  mantlets.  The  garrison  on  their  part 
essayed  by  the  discha'ge  of  machines,  cross  and  long  bows, 

to  keep  the  enemy  at  a  distance. 

Grose. 


V11I.     98 

Must  hurl  their  ruin  on  the  invaders  heads, 
Such  retribution  righteous  Heaven  decreed. 

Nor  lie  the  English  trembling,  for  the  fort 
Was  ably  garrisoned .     Glacidas,  the  Chief, 
A  gallant  man,  sped  on  from  place  to  place 
Cheering  the  brave ;  or  if  the  archer's  hand, 
Palsied  with  fear,  shot  wide  the  ill-aim* d  shaft, 
Threatening  the  coward  who  betrayed  himself. 
He  drove  him  from  the  ramparts.     In  his  hand 
The  Chief  a  *  cross-bow  held  5  an  engine  dread 


*  The  cross-bow  was  some  time  laid  aside  in  obedience 
to  a  decree  of  the  second  Lateran  Council  held  in  1139.  u  Ar- 
tem  illam  mortiferam  et  Deo  odibilem  ballistariorum  adversus 
Christianos  &  Catholicos  exercere  de  caetero  sub  anathemate 
prohibemus.,,  This  weapon  was  again  introduced  into  our 
armies  by  Richard  I.  who  being  slain  with  a  Quarrel  shot 
from  one  of  them,  at  the  siege  of  the  Castle  of  Chaluz  in  Nor- 
mandy, it  was  considered  as  a  judgment  from  Heaven  inflicted 
upon  him  for  his  impiety.  Guilliaume  le  Breton  relating  the 
death  of  this  King,  puts  the  following  into  the  mouth  of 
Atropos : 


VIII.     99 

Of  such  wide-wasting  fury,  that  of  yore 
The  assembled  fathers  of  the  Christian  church 
Pronounced  that  man  accurs'd  whose  impious  hand 
Should  point  the  murderous  weapon.     Such  decrees 
Befits  the  men  of  God  to  promulgate, 
And  with  a  warning  voice,  tho'  haply  vain, 
To  cry  aloud  and  spare  not,  woe  to  them 
Whose  hands  are  full  of  blood  ! 

An  English  King, 
The  lion-hearted  Richard,  their  decree 
First  broke,  and  heavenly  retribution  doom'd 
His  fall  by  the  keen  quarrel :  since  that  day 
Frequent  in  fields  of  battle,  and  from  far 
To  many  a  good  Knight,  bearing  his  death  wound 
From  hands  unknown.     "With  such  an  instrument, 


Hac  volo,  non  alia  Richardum  morte  perire 
Ut  qui  Francigenis  ballistae  primitus  usum 
Tradidit,  ipse,  sui  rem  primitus  experiatur, 

<iuemque  alios  docuit  in  se  vim  sentiat  artis. 

^Grose* 


VIII.      100 

Arm'd  on  the  ramparts,  Glacidas  his  eye 
Cast  on  the  assailing  host.     A  keener  glance 
Darts  not  the  hawk  when  from  the  feather'd  tribe 
He  marks  his  victim. 

On  a  Frank  he  fix'd 
His  gaze,  who  kneeling  by  the  *  trebuchet, 
Charged  its  long  sling  with  death.     Him  Glacidas 
Secure  behind  the  battlements,  beheld, 
And  strung  his  bow  j  then,  bending  on  one  knee, 
He  in  the  groove  the  feather'd  f  quarrel  placed 
And  levelling  with  firm  eye,  the  death- wound  mark'd. 
The  bow-string  twang'd,  on  its  .swift  way  the  dart 


*  From  the  trebuchet  they  discharged  many  stones  at  once 

by  a  sling.     It  acted  by  means  of  a  great  weight  fastened  to 

the  short  arm  of  a  lever,  which  being  let  fall,  raised  the  end 

of  the  long  arm  with  a  great  velocity.     A  man  is  represented 

kneeling  to  load  one  of  these  in  an  ivory  carving,  supposed  to 

be  of  the  age  of  Edward  II. 

Grose. 

+   Quarrels,  or  carreaux,  were  so  called  from  their  heads, 
which  were  square-pyramids  of  iron. 


VIII.      101 

Whizzed  fierce,  and  struck,  there  where  the  helmet's 

clasps 
Defend  the  neck ;  a  weak  protection  now, 
For  thro'  the  tube  that  the  pure  air  inhales 
Pierced  the  keen  shaft ;  blood  down  the  unwonted  way 
Gush'd  to  die  lungs  :  prone  fell  the  dying  man 
Grasping,  convuls'd,  the  earth  :  a  hollow  groan 
In  his  throat  struggled,  and  the  dews  of  death 
Stood  on  his  livid  cheek.     The  days  of  youth 
He  had  pass'd  peaceful,  and  had  known  what  joys 
Domestic  love  bestows,  the  father  once 
Of  two  fair  infants  -,  in  the  city  hemnVd 
During  the  hard  siege,  he  had  seen  their  cheeks 
Grow  pale  with  famine,  and  had  heard  their  cries 
For  bread  !  his  wife,  a  broken-hearted  one 
Sunk  to  the  cold  grave's  quiet,  and  her  babes 
With  hunger  pined,  and  followed  -,  he  survived, 
A  miserable  man,  and  heard  the  shouts 
Of  joy  in  Orleans,  when  the  Maid  approach'd 
As  o'er  the  corse  of  his  last  little  one 

VOL,  II.  F 


VIII.      102 

He  heaped  the  unhallowed  earth.     To  him  the  foe 
Perform 'd  a  friendly  part,  hastening  the  hour 
Grief  else  had  soon  brought  on. 

The  English  Chief, 
Pointing  again  his  arbalist,  let  loose 
The  string  -,  the  quarrel,  driven  by  that  strong  blow, 
True  to  its  aim,  fled  fatal  :  one  it  struck 
Dragging  a  tortoise  to  the  moat,  and  fix'd 
Deep  in  his  liver  -,  blood  and  mingled  gall 
Flow'd  from  the  wound  j  and  writhing  with  keen  pangs. 
Headlong  he  fell  3  he  for  the  wintry  hour 
Knew  many  a  merry  ballad  and  quaint  tale, 
A  man  in  his  small  circle  well-beloved. 
None  better  knew  with  prudent  hand  to  guide 
The  vine's  young  tendrils,  or  at  vintage  time 
To  press  the  full-swoln  clusters  5  he,  heart-glad, 
Taught  his  young  boys  the  little  all  he  knew, 
Enough  for  happiness.     The  English  host 
Laid  waste  his  fertile  fields  :  he,  to  the  war, 
By  want  compell'd,  adventur'd,  in  his  gore 
Now  weltering. 


VIII.      103 

Nor  the  Gallic  host  remit 
Their  eager  efforts  -,  some,  *  the  watery  fence. 
Beneath  the  tortoise  roof'd,  with  engines  apt 
Drain  painful  -,  part,  laden  with  wood,  throw  there 
Their  buoyant  burdens,  labouring  so  to  gain 
Firm  footing  :  some  the  mangonels  supply, 
Or  charging  with  huge  stones  the  murderous  f  sling, 
Or  petrary,  or  in  the  espringal 
Fix  the  brass- winged  \  arrows.     Hoarse  around 
Rose  the  confused  din  of  multitudes. 


•  The  tortoises,  &c.  and  moveable  towers  having  reached 
the  walls,  the  besiegers  under  them  either  began  to  mine,  or 
batter  them  with  the  ram.  They  also  established  batteries  of 
balistas  and  mangonels  on  the  counterscarp.  Ihese  were  op- 
posed by  those  of  the  enemy. 

f  The  Matafunda. 

'%  The  Espringal  threw  large  darts  called  Muchettse,  some- 
times winged  with  brass  instead  of  feathers.  Procopius  says 
that  because  feathers  could  not  be  put  to  the  large  darts  dis- 
charged from  the  balista,  the  ancients  used  pieces  of  wood  six 
inches  thick,  which  had  the  same  effect, 
V2 


VIII.      104 

Fearless  along  the  ramparts  Gargrave  moved, 
Cheering  the  English  troops.     The  bow  he  bore  \ 
The  quiver  rattled  as  he  moved  along. 
He  knew  aright  to  aim  the  feather'd  shafts, 
Well-skilled  to  pierce  the  mottled  roebuck's  side, 
O'ertaken  in  his  flight.     Him  passing  on, 
From  some  huge  *  martinet,  a  ponderous  stone 


*  Le  lendemain  vindrent  deux  maistres  engingneurs  au  Due 
de  Normandte,  qui  dirent  que,  si  on  leur  vouloit  livrer  boys  et 
ouvriers,  ilz  feroient  quatre  eschauffaulx  et  haulx  que  on  me- 
neroit  aux  murs  du  chastel,  et  seroient  si  haulz  q'lz  surmon- 
teroient  les  murs.  Le  Due  commanda  qlz  le  feissent,  et  fist 
prendre  tous  les  charpentiers  du  pays,  et  payer  largement.  Si 
furent  faitz  ees  quatre  eschauffaulx  en  quatre  grosses  nefz, 
mais  on  y  mist  longuement  et  cousterent  grans  deniers.  Si  y 
fist  on  les  gens  entrer  q'a  ceulx  du  chastel  devoient  combattre. 
Quant  ilz  eurent  passe  la  moitie  de  la  reviere,  ceulx  du  chastel 
desclinquerent  quatre  martinetz  qlz  avoient  faitz  nouvellement 
pour  remedier  contre  iesditz  eschauffaulx.  Ces  quatre  marti- 
netz gettoient  si  grosses  pierres  et  si  souvent  sur  ces  eschauf- 
faulx qlz  furent  bien  tost  froissez  tant  que  les  gensdarmes  et 
ceulx  que  les  conduisoient  ne  se  peurent  dedans  garantir.  Si 
se  retirercnf  arriere  le  plus  tost  quilz  peurent.  Et  aincois  qlz 
fussent  oultre  la  reviere  lung  des  eschauffaulx  fut  enfondre  au 

fons  de  leaue. 

Froissart,  I.fueillet  8#. 


VIII.      105 

Crush'd :  on  his  breast-plate  falling,  the  vast  force, 
Shattered  the  bone,  and  with  his  mangled  lungs 
The  fragments  mingled.     On  the  sunny  brow 
Of  a  fair  hill,  wood-circled,  stood  his  home, 
A  pleasant  dwelling,  whence  the  ample  ken 
Gazed  o'er  subjected  distance,  and  surveyed 
Streams,  hills,  and  forests,  fair  variety  ! 
The  traveller  knew  its  hospitable  towers, 
For  open  were  the  gates,  and  blazed  for  all 
The  friendly  fire.     By  glory  lur'd,  the  youth 
Went  forth  }  and  he  had  bathed  his  falchion's  edge 
In  many  a  Frenchman's  gore  ;  now  crushed  beneath 
The  ponderous  fragments  force,  his  mangled  limbs 
Lie  quivering. 

Lo  !  towards  the  levelled  moat, 
A  *  moving  tower  the  men  of  Orleans  wheel 


*  The  following  extract  from  the  History  of  Edward  III.  by 

Joshua  Barnes  will  convey  a  full  idea  of  these  moving  towers. 

"  Now  the  Earl  of  Darby  had  layn  before  Reule  more  than 

nine  weeks,  in  which  time  he  had  made  two  vast  Belfroys  or 

f3 


VIII.      IOC 

Four  stages  elevate.    Above  was  hung, 
Equalling  the  walls,  a  bridge  ;  in  the  lower  stage 
The  ponderous  battering-ram  :  a  troop  within 
Of  *  archers,  thro1  the  opening,  shot  their  shafts. 


Bastilles  of  massy  timber,  with  three  stages  or  floors  ;  each  of 
the  belfroys  running  on  four  huge  wheels,  bound  about  with 
thick  hoops  of  iron ;  and  the  sides  and  other  parts  that  any 
ways  respected  the  town  were  covered  with  raw  hides,  thick 
laid,  to  defend  the  engines  from  fire  and  shot.  In  every  one 
of  these  stages  were  placed  an  hundred  archers,  and  between  the 
two  Bastilles,  there  were  two  hundred  men  with  pick-axes  and 
mattocks.  From  these  six  stages  six  hundred  archers  shot  so 
fiercely  all  together,  that  no  man  could  appear  at  his  defence 
without  a  sufficient  punishment:  so  that  the  Belfreys  being 
brought  upon  wheels  by  the  strength  of  men  over  a  part  of  the 
ditch,  which  was  purposely  made  plain  and  level  by  the  fag- 
gots and  eartfi  and  stones  cast  upon  them,  the  two  hundred 
pioneers  plyed  their  work  so  well  under  the  protection  of  these 
engines,  that  they  made  a  considerable  breach  through  the 
walls  of  the  town. 

*  The  archers  and  cross-bowmen  from  the  upper  stories  in 
the  moveable  towers  essayed  to  drive  away  the  garrison  from 
the  parapets,  and  on  a  proper  opportunity  to  let  fall  a  bridge, 
by  that  means  to  enter  the  town.  In  the  bottom  story  was 
often  a  large  ram. 


Grose. 


VIII.      107 

In  the  loftiest  part  was  Conrade,  so  prepared 

To  mount  the  rampart  -,  for  he  loath'd  the  chase, 

And  loved  to  see  the  dappled  foresters 

Browze  fearless  on  their  lair,,  with  friendly  eye, 

And  happy  in  beholding  happiness, 

Not  meditating  death  :  the  bowman's  art 

Therefore  he  little  knew,  nor  was  he  wont 

To  aim  the  arrow  at  the  distant  foe, 

But  uprear  in  close  conflict,  front  to  front, 

His  death-red  battle-axe,  and  break  the  shield, 

First  in  the  war  of  men.     There  too  the  Maid 

Awaits,  impatient  on  the  wall  to  wield 

Her  falchion.     Onward  moves  the  heavy  tower, 

Slow  o'er  the  moat  and  steady,  tho'  the  foe 

Showered  there  their  javelins,  aim'd  their  engines  there, 

And  from  the  arbalist  the  fire-tipt  *  dart 


*  Against  the  moveable  tower  there  were  many  modes  of 
defence.  The  chief  was  to  break  up  the  ground  over  which 
it  was  to  pass,  or  by  undermining  it  to  overthrow  it.  At- 
tempts were  likewise  made  to  set  it  on  fire,  to  prevent  which 
it  was  coyered  with  raw  hides,  or  coated  over,  with  alum. 

Grose, 


VIII.     108 

Shot  lightening  thro'  the  sky.     In  vain  it  flamed, 

For  well  with  many  a  reeking  hide  secured, 

Pass'd  on  the  dreadful  pile,  and  now  it  reached 

The  wall.     Below,  with  forceful  impulse  driven, 

The  iron -horned  engine  swings  its  stroke, 

Then  back  recoils ;  while  they  within  who  guide, 

In  backward  step  collecting  all  their  strength, 

Anon  the  massy  beam  with  stronger  arm 

Drive  full  and  fierce;  so  rolls  the  swelling  sea 

Its  curly  billows  to  the  unmoved  foot 

Of  some  huge  promontory,  whose  broad  base 

Breaks  the  rough  wave;  the  shiver'd  surge  rolls  back, 

Till,  by  the  coming  billow  borne,  it  bursts 

Again,  and  foams  with  ceaseless  violence. 

The  Wanderer,  on  the  sunny  clift  outstretch'd, 

Harks  to  the  roaring  surges,  as  they  rock 

His  weary  senses  to  forgetfulness. 

But  nearer  danger  threats  the  invaders  now, 
For  on  the  ramparts,  lowered  from  above 


VIII.     109 

The  bridge  *  reclines.     An  universal  shout 


*  These  bridges  are  described  by  Rollin  in  the  account  of 
the  moving  towers  which  he  gives  from  Vegetius.  "  The 
moving  towers  are  made  of  an  assemblage  of  beams  and  strong 
planks,  not  unlike  a  house.  To  secure  them  against  the  fires 
thrown  by  the  besieged,  they  are  covered  with  raw  hides,  or 
with  pieces  of  cloth  made  of  hair.  Their  height  is  in  propor- 
tion to  their  base.  They  are  sometimes  thirty  feet  square,  and 
sometimes  forty  or  fifty.  They  are  higher  than  the  walls  or 
even  towers  of  the  city.  They  are  supported  upon  several 
wheels  according  to  mechanic  principles,  by  the  means  of 
which  the  machine  is  easily  made  to  move,  how  great  soever 
it  may  be.  The  town  is  in  great  danger  if  this  tower  can  ap- 
proach the  walls;  for  it  has  stairs  from  one  story  to  another, 
and  includes  different  methods  of  attack.  At  bottom  it  has  a 
ram  to  batter  the  wall,  and  on  the  middle  story  a  draw-bridge, 
made  of  two  beams  with  rails  of  basket-work,  which  lets 
down  easily  upon  the  wall  of  a  city,  when  within  the  reach  of 
it.  The  besiegers  pass  upon  this  bridge,  to  make  themselves 
masters  of  the  wall.  Upon  the  higher  stories  are  soldiers 
armed  with  partisans  and  missive  weapons,  who  keep  a  perpe- 
tual discharge  upon  the  works.  When  affairs  are  in  this  pos- 
ture, a  place  seldom  held  out  long.  For  what  can  they  hope 
who  have  nothing  to  confide  in  but  the  height  of  their  ram- 
parts, when  they  see  others  suddenly  appear  which  command 
them  ? 

The  Towers  or  Belfreys  of  modem  times  rarely  exceeded 
three  or  four  stages  or  stones. 

F5 


VIII.      110 

Hose  from  the  hostile  hosts.     The  exultant  Franks 
Clamour  their  loud  rejoicing,  whilst  the  foe 
Lift  up  the" warning  voice,  and  call  aloud 
For  speedy  succour  there,  with  deafening  shout 
Cheering  their  comrades.    'Not  with  louder  din 
The  mountain  torrent  flings  precipitate 
Its  bulk  of  waters,  tho'  amid  the  fall 
Shattered,  and  dashing  silvery  from  the  rock. 

Lo  !  on  the  bridge  he  stands,  the  undaunted  man, 
Conrade  !  the  gathered  foes  along  the  wall 
Throng  opposite,  and  on  him  point  their  pikes,    ' 
Cresting  with  armed  men  the  battlements. 
He,  undismayed  tho1  on  that  perilous  height, 
Stood  firm,  and  hurl'd  his  javelin  -,  the  keen  point 
Fierced  thro'  the  destined  victim,  where  his  arm 
Join'd  the  broad  breast :  a  wound  that  skilful  care 
Haply  had  heal'd  5  but,  him  disabled  now 
For  farther  service,  the  unpitying  throng 
Of  his  tumultuous  comrades  from  the  wall 


VIII.     1 1 1 

Thrust  headlong.     Nor  did  Conrade  cease  to  hurl 
His  deadly  javelins  fast,  for  well  within 
The  tower  was  stor'd  with  weapons,  to  the  Knight 
Quickly  supplied  :  nor  did  the  mission  d  Maid 
Rest  idle  from  the  combat  5  she,  secure 
Aim'd  the  keen  quarrel,  taught  the  cross-bow's  use 
By  the  willing  mind  that  what  it  well  desires 
Gains  aptly  :  nor  amid  the  numerous  throng, 
Tho'  haply  erring  from  their  destin'd  mark, 
Sped  her  sharp  arrows  frustrate.     From  the  tower. 
Ceaseless  the  bow-strings  twang  :  the  Knights  below^ 
Each  by  his  pavais  bulwark'd,  thither  aim'dV 
TJieir  darts,  and  not  a  dart  fell  woundless  there, 
So  thickly  throng'd  they  stood,  and  fell  as  fast 
As  when  the  Monarch  of  the  East  goes  forth 
From  Gemnars  banks  and  the  proud  palaces 
Qf  Delhi,  the  wild  monsters  of  the  wood 
Die  in  the  blameless  warfare  :  closed  within 
-  The  still-contracting  circle,  their  brute  force ' 
Wasting  in  mutual  rage,  they  perish  there, 


VIII.     112 

Or  by  each  other's  fury  lacerate, 

The  archer's  barbed  arrow,  or  the  lance 

Of  some  bold  youth  of  his  first  exploits  vain, 

Rajah  or  Omrah,  for  the  war  of  beasts 

Venturous,  and  learning  thus  the  love  of  blood. 

The  shout  of  terror  rings  along  the  wall, 

For  now  the  French  their  scaling  ladders  place, 

And  bearing  high  their  bucklers,  to  the  assault 

Mount  fearless  :  from  above  the  furious  troops 

Hurl  down  such  weapons  as  inventive  care, 

Or  frantic  rage  supplies  :  huge  stones  and  beams 

Crush  the  bold  foe  j  some,  thrust  adown  the  height, 

Fall  living  to  their  death  \  some  in  keen  pangs 

And  wildly-writhing,  as  the  liquid  lead 

Gnaws  thro1  their  members,  leap  down  desperate, 

Eager  to  cease  from  suffering.     Still  they  mount. 

And  by  their  fellows'  fate  unterrified, 

Still  dare  the  perilous  way.     Nor  dangerless 

To  the  English  was  the  fight,  tho'  from  above 

Easy  to  crush  the  assailants  :  them  amidst 


VIII.      113 

Fast  fled  the  arrows  -,  the  large  *  brass-winged  darts, 
There  driven  resistless  from  the  espringal, 
Keeping  their  impulse  even  in  the  wound, 
Whirl  as  they  pierce  the  victim.     Some  fall  crush'd 
Beneath  the  ponderous  fragment  that  descends 
The  heavier  from  its  height :  some,  the  long  lance, 
Impetuous  rushing  on  its  viewless  way, 
Transfix'd.     The  death-fraught  cannon's  thundering 

roar 
Convulsing  air,  the  soldier's  eager  shout, 
And  Terror's  wild  shriek  echo  o'er  the  plain 
In  dreadful  harmony. 

Meantime  the  Chief, 
Who  equall'd  on  the  bridge  the  rampart's  height, 
With  many  a  well-aim'd  javelin  dealing  death, 
Made  thro'  the  throng  his  passage  :  he  advanced 
In  wary  valour  o'er  his  slaughtered  foes, 
On  the  blood-reeking  wall.     Him  drawing  near, 
Two  youths,  the  boldest  of  the  English  host, 


*  These  darts  were   called  Viretons,  from  their   whirling 
about  in  the  air. 


VIII.      114 

0 

Prest  on  to  thrust  him  from  that  perilous  height  $ 
At  once  they  rush'd  upon  him  :  he,  his  axe 
Dropping,  the  dagger  drew  :  one  thro*  the  throat 
He  pierced,  and  swinging  his  broad  buckler  round, 
Dash'd  down  his  comrade.     Even  thus  unmoved, 
Stood  Corineus  the  sire  of  Guendolen, 
When  *  grappling  with  his  monstrous  enemy 


*  And  here,  with  leave  bespoken  to  recite  a  grand  fable, 

though  dignifyed  by  our  best  poets,  while  Brutus  on  a  certain 

festival  day,  solemnly  kept  on  that  shore  where  he  first  landed, 

was  with  the  people  in  great  jollity  and  mirth,  a  crew  of  these 

savages  breaking  in  among  them,  began  on  the  sudden  another 

sort  of  game  than  at  such  a  meeting  was  expected.     But  at 

length  by  many  hands  overcome,  Goemagog  the  hugest,  in 

height  twelve  cubits,  is  reserved  alive,  that  with  him  Corineus 

who  desired  nothing  more,  might  try  his  strength  ;  whom  in 

a  wrestle  the  giant  catching  aloft,  with  a  terrible  hugg  broke 

three  of  his  ribs  :  nevertheless  Corineus  enraged  heaving  him 

up  by  main  force,  and  on  his  shoulders  bearing  him  to  the 

next  high  rock,  threw  him  headlong  all  shattered  into  the  sea, 

•and  left  his  name  on  the  cl;ff,  called  ever  since  Langoemagog, 

which  is  to  say,  the  Giant's  leap." 

Milton. 

The  expression  brute  vastncss  is  taken  from  the  same  work  of 
Milton,  where  he  relates  the  death  of  Morindus.    «  Well  fitted 


VIII.      115 

He  the  brute  vastness  held  aloft,  and  bore, 
And  headlong  hurl'd,  all  shatter* d  to  the  sea, 
Down  from  the  rock's  high  summit,  since  that  day- 
Hi  m,  hugest  of  the  giants,  chronicling, 
Called  Langoemagog. 

The  Maid  of  Arc 
Bounds  o*er  the  bridge,,  and  to  the  wind  unfurls 
Her  hallowed  banner.     At  that  welcome  sight 
A  general  shout  of  acclamation  rose, 
And  loud,  as  when  the  tempest-tossing  forest 
Roars  to  the  roaring  wind.     Then  terror  seiz'd 
The  garrison  ;  and  fired  anew  with  hope, 
The  fierce  assailants  to  their  prize  rush  on 
Resisdess.     Vainly  do  their  English  foes 
Hurl  there  their  beams,  and  stones,  and  javelins, 
And  fire-brands ;  fearless  in  the  escalade, 


to  such  a  beastial  cruelty  was  his  end ;  for  hearing  of  a  huge 
monster  that  from  the  Irish  sea  infested  the  coast,  and  in  the 
pride  of  his  strength  foolishly  attempting  to  set  manly  valour 
against  a  brute  vastness,  when  his  weapons  were  all  in  vain,  by 
that  horrible  mouth  he  was  catched  up  and  devoured." 


VIII.     116 

The  assailants  mount,  and  now  upon  the  wall 
Wage  equal  battle. 

Burning  at  the  sight 
With  indignation,  Glacidas  beheld 
His  troops  fly  scattered ;  fast  on  every  side 
The  foes  up-rushing  eager  to  their  spoil ; 
The  holy  standard  waving  -,  and  the  Maid 
Fierce  in  pursuit.     "  Speed  but  this  arrow  Heaven  V* 
The  Chief  exclaim'd,  "  and  I  shall  fall  content." 
So  saying,  he  his  sharpest  quarrel  chose, 
And  fix'd  the  bow-string,  and  against  the  Maid 
Levelling,  let  loose  :  her  arm  was  rais'd  on  high 
To  smite  a  fugitive ;  he  glanced  aside, 
Shunning  her  deadly  stroke,  and  thus  received 
The  Chieftain's  arrow  :  thro'  his  ribs  it  pass'd, 
And  cleft  that  vessel,  whence  the  purer  blood, 
Thro'  many  a  branching  channel  o'er  the  frame 
Meanders. 

"  Fool !"  the  exasperate  Knight  exclaimM, 
M  Would  she  had  slain  thee  !  thou  hast  lived  too  long." 


VIII.     117 

Again  he  aim'd  his  arbalist :  the  string 

Struck  forceful :  swift  the  erring  arrow  sped 

Guiltless  of  blood,  for  lightly  o'er  the  court 

Bounded  the  warrior  Virgin.     Glacidas 

Levell'd  his  bow  again  ;  the  fated  shaft 

Fled  true,  and  difficultly  thro5  the  mail 

Pierced  to  her  neck,  and  tinged  its  point  with  blood. 

"  She  bleeds  !  she  bleeds  !"  exulting  cried  the  Chief  5 

0  The  Sorceress  bleeds  !  nor  all  her  hellish  arts 

"  Can  charm  my  arrows  from  their  destined  course/' 

Ill-fated  man  !  in  vain  with  murderous  hand 

Placing  thy  feathered  quarrel  in  its  groove, 

Dream' st  thou  of  JOAN  subdued  I  She  from  her  neck 

Plucking  the  shaft  unterrified,  exclaim'd, 

u  This  is  a  *  favour  !  Frenchmen,  let  us  on  ! 


*  "  The  Tournelles  adjoining  to  the  Bridge,  was  kept  bj 
Glacidas,  (one  of  the  most  resolute  Captains  among  the  Eng- 
lish) having  well  encouraged  his  men  to  defend  themselves  and 
to  fight  for  their  lives. 

The  skirmish  begins  at  nine  of  the  clock  in  the  morning, 
and  the  ladders  are  planted.    A  storm  of  English  arrows  falls 


-    VIII.     IIS 

u  Escape  they  cannot  from  the  hand  of  God  !** 
But  Conrade,  rolling  round  his  angry  eyes, 


upon  our  men  with  such  violence  as  they  recoiled.  "  How  . 
now  !"  (saith  the  Virgin),  "  have  we  begun  so  well  to  end  so 
Ml  ?  let  us  charge !  they  are  our  own,  seeing  God  is  on  our 
side!"  so  every  one  recovering  his  forces,  flocks  about  the 
Virgin.  The  English  double  the  storm  upon  the  thickest  of 
the  troops.  The  Virgin  fighting  in  the  foremost  ranks  and 
encouraging  her  men  to  do  well  was  shot  through  the  arm 
with  an  arrow  ;  she,  nothing  amazed,  takes  the  arrow  in 
one  hand  and  her  sword  in  the  other,  "  this  is  a  favour!" 
(says  she),  "  let  us  go  on!  they  cannot  escape  the  hand  of 
GOD  I" 

Chapelain  has  dilated  this  exclamation  of  the  Maid  into  a 
ridiculous  speech. 

&uoy!  valeureux  Guerriers,  quoy!  dans  vostre  avantage 

Un  peu  de  sang  perdu  vous  fait  perdre  courage ! 

Pour  moy,  je  le  repute  a  supreme  bonheur, 

Et  dans  ce  petit  mal  je  trouve  un  grand  honneur ; 

Le  succes,  bien  qu*  heureux,  n'eust  en  rien  dhonnorable, 

Si  le  Ciel  n'eust  permis  un  coup  si  favorable  ; 

Vous  n'en  verres  pas  moins  vos  bras  victorieux, 

Pen  verray  seulement  mon  nom  plus  glorieux. 

L.  III. 


VIII.     Ill 

Beheld  the  English  Chieftain  as  he  airn'd 
Again  the  bow :  with  rapid  step  he  strode  $ 
Nor  did  not  Glacidas  the  Frank  perceive  \ 
At  him  he  drew  the  string :  the  powerless  dart 
Fell  blunted  from  his  buckler.     Fierce  he  came 
And  lifting  high  his  ponderous  battle-axe, 
Full  on  his  shoulder  drove  the  furious  stroke 
Deep  buried  in  his  bosom  :  prone  he  fell, 
The  cold  air  rush'd  upon  his  heaving  heart. 
One  whose  low  lineage  gave  no  second  name 
Was  *  Glacidas,  a  gallant  man,  and  still 


*  I  can  make  nothing  English  of  this  name.  MonstreUet 
calls  him  Clacedas  and  Clasendas.  Daniel  says  the  principal 
leaders  of  the  English  were  Suffolk,  Talbot,  Scales,  Fastolffe, 
et  un  nomme  Glacidas  011  Clacidas,  dont  le  merite  suppleant 
a  la  naissance,  l'avoit  fait  parvenir  aux  premieres  charges  de 
l'armee. 

The  importance  attached  to  a  second  name  is  well  exem- 
plified by  an  extract  in  Selden,  relating  to  ci  the  creation  of 
Robert  Earle  of  Glocester  natural  sonne  to  King  Henry  I. 
The  King  having  speech  with  Mabile  the  sole  daughter  and 
heire  of  Robert  Fitz  Hay  man  Lord  of  Glocester,.  told  her  £as 


VIII.      120 

His  memory  in  the  records  of  the  foe 
Survives. 


it  is  reported  in  an  old  English  rythmical  story  attributed  to  one 
Robert  of  Glocester),  that 

— he  seold  his  sone  to  her  spousing  avonge, 

The  Maid  was  ther  agen,  and  withsaid  it  long. 

The  King  of  sought  her  suith  ynou,  so  that  atten  ende 

Mabile  him  answered,  as  gode  Maide  and  hende, 

Sir,  heo  sede,  well  ichot,  that  your  hert  ope  me  is, 

More  vor  mine  heritage  than  vor  my  sulve  iwis. 

Sovair  eritage  as  ich  abbe,  it  were  me  grete  shame, 

Vor  to  abbe  an  louerd,  bote  he  had  an  toname. 

Sir  Roberd  le  Fitz  Haim  my  faders  name  was, 

And  thatne  might  nought  be  his  that  of  his  kunne  nought  nas, 

Therefore,  Sir,  vor  Godes  love,  ne  let  me  no  mon  owe, 

Bote  he  abbe  an  twoname  war  thoru  he  be  iknowe. 

Damoysalc,  quoth  the  King,  thou  seist  well  in  this  case, 

Sir  Roberd  de  Fitz  Haim  thy  fader  twoname  was ; 

And  as  udir  twoname  he  shall  abbe,  gif  me  him  may  bise 

Sir  Roberd  de  Fitz  Rey  is  name  shall  be. 

Sire,  quoth  this  Maid  tho,  that  is  a  vaire  name 

As  who  seith  all  his  life  and  of  great  fame, 

Ae  wat  shold  his  sonne  hote  thanne  and  he  that  of  him  come, 

So  ne  might  hii  hote,  whereof  nameth  gone. 

The  King  understood  that  the  Maid  ne  sede  no  outrage* 

And  that  Gloucestre  was  chief  of  ire  heritage. 


VIII.     121 

And  now  disheartened  at  his  death 
The  vanquished  English  fly  towards  the  gate, 
Seeking  the  *  inner  court,  as  yet  in  hope 
Again  to  dare  the  siege,  and  with  their  friends 
Find  present  refuge  there.     Mistaken  men ! 
The  vanquish'd  have  no  friends  !  defeated  thus, 
Prest  by  pursuit,  in  vain  with  eager  voice 
They  call  their  comrades  in  the  suppliant  tones 
Of  pity  now,  now  with  the  bitter  curse 


Dameseile  he  sede  tho,  thi  Louerd  shall  have  a  name 

Vor  him  and  vor  his  heirs  vair  without  blame, 

Vor  Roberd  Earle  of  Gloucestre  is  name  shall  be  and  his, 

Vor  he  shall  be  Earle  of  Gloucestre  and  his  heirs  iwis. 

Sire,  quoth  this  Maid  tho,  well  liketh  me  this 

In  this  forme  ichole  that  all  my  gode  be  his. 

Thus  was  Earle  of  Gloucestre  first  imade  there 

Ae  his  Roberd  of  all  thulke  that  long  bivore  were, 

This  was  end  leve  hundred  yeare,  and  in  the  ninth  yeer  right 

After  that  ure  Louerd  was  in  his  moder  a  hight. 

Seldeiis  Titles  of  Honor. 

*  On  entering  the  outer  gate,  the  next  part  that  presented 
itself  was  the  outer  ballium,  or  bailey,  separated  from  the  inner 
ballium  by  a  strong  embattled  wall  and  towered  gate. 


vii  r.    122 

Of  fruitless  anger  -,  they  indeed  within 
Fast  from  the  ramparts  on  the  victor  troops 
Hurl  their  keen  javelins, — but  the  gate  is  barr'd— 
The  huge  portcullis  down  ! 

Then  terror  seizfd 
Their  hopeless  hearts  :  some,  furious  in  despair, 
Turn  on  their  foes  5  fear-palsied  some  await 
The  coming  death  $  some  drop  the  useless  sword 
And  cry  for  mercy. 

Then  the  Maid  of  Arc 
Had  pity  on  the  vanquish'd;  and  she  call'd 
Aloud,  and  cried  unto  the  host  of  France, 
And  bade  them  cease  from  slaughter.     They  obeyed 
The  delegated  damsel.     Some  there  were 
Apart  who  communed  murmuring,  and  of  these 
Graville  addressed  her.  "  Mission'd  Maid  !  our  troops 
*'  Are  few  in  number ;  and  to  well  secure 
M  These  many  prisoners  such  a  force  demands, 
*(  As  should  we  spare  might  shortly  make  us  need 
<f  The  mercy  we  bestow  \  not  mercy  then, 
2 


VIII.      123 

"  Rather  to  these  our  soldiers,  cruelty. 

"  Justice  to  them,  to  France,  and  to  our  King, 

44  And  that  regard  wise  Nature  hath  in  each 

44  Implanted  of  self-safety,  all  demand 

"  Their  deaths." 

'<  Foul  fall  such  evil  policy  !" 
The  indignant  Maid  exclaim'd.     4C I  tell  thee,  Chief, 
■"'God  is  with  us  !  but  God  shall  hide  his  face 
44  From  him  who  sheds  one  drop  of  human  blood 
"  In  calm  cold-hearted  wisdom  j  him  who  weighs 
*  The  right  and  the  expedient,  and  resolves, 
44  Just  as  the  well-pois'd  scale  shall  rise  or  fall. 
■"'These  men  shall  live,  live  to  be  happy  Chief, 
"  And  in  the  latest  hour  of  life,  shall  bless 
"  Us  who  preserved.  What  is  the  Conqueror's  name,, 
"  Compared  to  this  when  the  death  hour  shall  come  ? 
"  To  think  that  we  have  from  the  murderous  sword 
44  Rescued  one  man,  and  that  his  heart-pour'd  prayers  3 
"  Already  with  celestial  eloquence, 
"  Plead  for  us  to  the  All-just!" 


VIII.      124 

Severe  she  spake, 
Then  turn'd  to  Conrade.   ' '  Thou  from  these  our  troop* 
"  Appoint  fit  escort  for  the  prisoners  : 
u  I  need  not  tell  thee,  Conrade,  they  are  men, 
<c  Misguided  men,  led  from  their  little  homes, 
"  The  victims  of  the  mighty  !  thus  subdued 
"  They  are  our  foes  no  longer  :  hold  them  safe 
"  In  Orleans.     From  the  war  we  may  not  spare 
"  Thy  valour  long." 

She  said  :  when  Conrade  cast 
His  eyes  around,  and  mark'd  amid  the  court 
From  man  to  man  where  Francis  rush'd  along, 
Bidding  them  spare  the  vanquished.     Him  he  hail*3. 
"  The  Maid  hath  bade  me  chuse  a  leader  forth 
"  To  guard  the  captives  -,  thou  shalt  be  the  man ; 
tc  For  thou  wilt  guard  them  with  due  diligence, 
94  Yet  not  forgetting  they  are  men,  our  foes 
"  No  longer!" 

Nor  meantime  the  garrison 
Ceas'd  from  the  war ;  they,  in  the  hour  of  need, 


VIII.     125 

Abandoning  their  comrades  to  the  sword, 

A  daring  band,  resolved  to  bide  the  siege 

In  desperate  valour.     Fast  against  the  walls 

The  battering-ram  drove  fierce  -,  the  enginery 

Ply  d  at  the  ramparts  fast  ;  the  catapults 

Drove  there  their  dreadful  darts  5  the  war-wolfs  there 

Hurl'd  their  huge  stones  5  and,  thro*  the  kindled  sky, 

The  engines  showered  their  *  sheets  of  liquid  fire. 

"  Feel  ye  not,  Comrades,  how  the  ramparts  shake 
"  Beneath  the  ponderous  ram's  incessant  stroke?" 


*  When  the  Black  Prince  attacked  the  Castle  of  Romoran- 
tin,  "  there  was  slain  hard  by  him  an  English  Esquire  named 
Jacob  Bernard,  whereat  the  Prince  was  so  displeased,  that  he 
took  his  most  solemn  oath,  and  sware  by  his  father's  soul  not 
to  leave  the  siege,  till  he  had  the  Castle  and  all  within  at  his 
mercy.  Then  the  assault  was  renewed  much  hotter  than 
ever,  till  at  last  the  Prince  saw  there  was  no  likelihood  of 
prevailing  that  way.  Wherefore  presently  he  gave  order  to 
raise  certain  engines,  wherewith  they  cast  combustible  matter 
enflamed  after  the  manner  of  wild  fire  into  the  Base  court  so 
VOL.  II.  G 


VIII.     126 

Exclaimed  a  venturous  Englishman.     "  Our  foes, 
"  In  woman-like  compassion,  have  dismissed 
t€  A  powerful  escort,  weakening  thus  themselves, 
te  And  giving  us  fair  hope,  in  equal  field, 
u  Of  better  fortune.     Sorely  here  annoyed, 
','  And  slaughtered  by  their  engines  from  afar, 
"  We  perish.     Vainly  does  the  soldier  boast 
"  Undaunted  courage  and  the  powerful  arm, 
*'  If  thus  pent  up,  like  some  wild  beast  he  falls, 
0f  Mark'd  for  the  hunter's  arrows :  let  us  out 
u  And  meet  them  in  the  battle,  man  to  man, 


fast  and  in  such  quantities,  that  at  last  the  whole  court  seemed 
to  be  one  huge  fire.  Whereupon  the  excessive  heat  prevailed 
so,  that  it  took  hold  of  the  roof  of  a  great  tower,  which  was 
covered  with  reed,  and  so  began  to  spread  over  all  the  castle. 
Now  therefore  when  these  valiant  captains  within  saw,  that  of 
necessity  they  must  either  submit  entirely  to  the  Prince's  cour- 
tesy, or  perish  by  the  most  merciless  of  elements,  they  all 
together  came  down  and  yielded  themselves  absolutely  to  his 

grace," 

Joshua  Barnes. 


VIII.     127 

"  Either  to  conquer,  or,  at  least,  to  die 
"  A  soldier's  death." 

"  Nay  nay . .  not  so/'  replied 
One  of  less  daring  valor.     "  Tho'  they  point 
"  Their  engines  here,  our  archers  not  in  vain 
<c  Speed  their  death-doing  shafts.    Let  the  strong  walls 
%<  First  by  the  foe  be  won ;  'twill  then  be  time 
"  To  meet  them  in  the  battle  man  to  man, 
«  When  these  shall  fail  us." 

Scarcely  had  he  spoke 
When  full  upon  his  breast  a  ponderous  stone 
Fell  fierce  impell'd,  and  drove  him  to  the  earth, 
All  shattered.    Horror  the  spectators  seiz'd, 
For  as  the  dreadful  weapon  shivered  him> 
His  blood  besprinkled  round,  and  they  beheld 
His  mangled  lungs  lie  quivering ! 

"  Such  the  fate 
ci  Of  those  who  trust  them  to  their  walls  defence." 
Again  exclaim'd  the  soldier :  <c  thus  they  fall, 
"  Betrayed  by  their  own  fears.    Courage  alone 
o  2 


VIII.      128 

•*  Can  save  us." 

Nor  to  draw  them  from  the  fort 
Now  needed  eloquence  ;  with  one  accord 
They  bade  him  lead  to  battle.     Forth  they  rush'd 
Impetuous.     With  such  fury  o'er  the  plain, 
Swoln  by  the  autumnal  tempest,  Vega  rolls 
His  rapid  waters,  when  the  gathered  storm, 
And  the  black  heights  of  Hatteril  bursting,  swells 
The  tide  of  desolation. 

Then  the  Maid 
Spake  to  the  son  of  Orleans,  **  Let  our  troops 
<(  Fall  back,  so  shall  the  English  in  pursuit 
t€  Leave  this  strong  fortress,  thus  an  easy  prey." 
Time  was  not  for  long  counsel.     From  the  court, 
Obedient  to  Dunois,  a  band  of  Franks 
Retreat,  as  at  the  irruption  of  their  foes 
Disheartened  •>  they,  with  shouts  and  loud  uproar, 
Rush  to  their  fancied  conquest:  JOAN,  the  while 
Placing  a  small  but  gallant  garrison, 
Bade  them  secure  the  gates :  then  forth  she  rush'd, 


VIII.     129 

With  such  fierce  onset  charging  on  their  rear, 
That  terror  smote  the  English,  and  they  wish'd 
Again  that  they  might  hide  them  in  their  walls 
Rashly  abandoned,  for  now  wheeling  round 
The  son  of  Orleans  fought.     All  captainless, 
Ill-marshall'd,  ill-directed,  in  vain  rage, 
They  waste  their  furious  efforts,  falling  fast 
Before  the  Maid's  good  falchion  and  the  sword 
Of  Conrade  :  loud  was  heard  the  mingled  sound 
Of  arms  and  men  5  the  earth,  that  trampled  late 
By  multitudes,  gave  to  the  passing  wind 
Its  dusty  clouds,  now  reek'd  with  their  hot  gore* 

High  on  the  fort's  far  summit  Talbot  mark'd 
The  fight,  and  call'd  impatient  for  his  arms, 
Eager  to  rush  to  war  -}  and  scarce  withheld, 
For  now,  disheartened  and  discomfited, 
The  troops  fled  fearful. 

On  the  bridge  there  stood 
A  strong-built  tower,  commanding  o'er  the  Loire. 

63 


VIII.      130 

The  traveller  sometimes  lingered  on  his  way, 

Marking  the  playful  tenants  of  the  stream, 

Seen  in  its  shadow,  stem  the  sea-ward  tide. 

This  had  the  invaders  won  in  hard  assault, 

Before  the  Delegate  of  Heaven  came  forth 

And  made  them  fear  who  never  fear'd  till  then. 

Hither  the  English  troops  with  hasty  steps 

Retir'd,  yet  not  forgetful  of  defence, 

But  waging  still  the  war :  the  garrison 

Them  thus  retreating  saw,  and  open  threw 

Their  guarded  gates,  and  on  the  Gallic  host, 

Covering  their  vanquish' d  fellows,  pourd  their  shafts. 

Check'd  in  pursuit  they  stop.     Then  Graville  cried, 

!'  111  Maiden  hast  thou  done  !  those  valiant  troops 

«  Thy  womanish  pity  has  dismissed,  with  us 

**  Conjoined  might  press  upon  the  vanquish'd  foes, 

"  Tho1  aided  thus,  and  plant  the  lilied  flag 

"  Victorious  on  yon  tower." 

"  Dark-minded  man  !" 
The  Maid  of  Orleans  answered,  «  to  act  well 


VIII.      131 

4 <  Brings  with  itself  an  ample  recompence, 
"  I  have  not  rear'd  the  Oriflamme  *  of  death, 


*  The  Oriflamme  was  a  standard  erected  to  denote  that  no 
quarter  would  be  given.  It  is  said  to  have  been  of  red  silk, 
adorned  and  beaten  with  very  broad  and  fair  lilies  of  gold,  and 
bordered  about  with  gold  and  vermillion.  Le  Moyne  has 
given  it  a  suitable  escort : 

Ensuite  TOriflamme  ardent  et  lumineuse, 

Marche  sur  un  grand  char,  dont  la  forme  est  affreuse. 

Quatre  enormes  Dragons  d'un  or  ombre  ecaillez, 

Et  de  pourpre,  d'azur,  et  de  vert  emaillez, 

Dans  quelque  occasion  que  le  besoin  le  porte, 

Luy  font  une  pompeuse  et  formidable  escorte. 

Dans  leur  terribles  yeux  des  grenas  arrondis, 

De  leur  feu,  de  leur  sang,  font  peur  aux  plus  hardis, 

Et  si  ce  feu  paroist  allumer  leur  audace, 

Aussi  paroist  ce  sang  animer  leur  menace. 

Le  char  roulant  sous  eux,  il  semble  au  roulement, 

Qu'il  les  fasse  voler  avecque  sifflement : 

Et  de  la  poudre,  en  Pair,  il  se  fait  des  fumees 

A  leur  bouches  du  vent  et  du  bruit  animees. 

Philip  is  said  by  some  historians  to  have  erected  the  Ori- 
rlamme  at  Crecy,  where  Edward  in  return  raised  up  his  Burn- 
ing Dragon,  the  English  signal  for  massacre.  The  Oriflamme 
was  originally  used  only  in  wars  against  the  Infidels,  for  it 
was  a  sacred  banner,  and  believed  to  have  been  sent  from 
Heaven. 


VIII.      132 

«  The  butcher  flag  !  the  banner  of  the  Lord 

H  Is  this,  and  come  what  will,  me  it  behoves, 

«  Mindful  of  that  Good  Power  who  delegates, 

"  To  spare  the  fallen  foe :  that  gracious  God 

f<  Sends  me  the  minister  of  mercy  forth, 

u  Sends  me  to  save  this  ravaged  realm  of  France, 

"  To  England  friendly  as  to  all  the  world, 

u  Foe  only  to  the  great  blood-guilty  ones, 

"  The  masters  and  the  murderers  of  mankind. " 

She  said,  and  suddenly  threw  off  her  helm  5 
Her  breast  heaved  high — her  cheek  grew  red — her  eyes 
Flash'd  forth  a  wilder  lustre.     "  Thou  dost  deem 
€<  That  I  have  illy  spar'd  so  large  a  band, 
<c  Disabling  from  pursuit  our  weakened  troops  \ . . 
€<  God  is  with  us  !"  she  cried . .  "  God  is  with  us  ! 
"  Our  Champion  manifest !" 

Even  as  she  spake, 
The  tower,  the  bridge,  and  all  its  multitudes, 
Sunk  with  a  mighty  crash. 


VIII.      133 

Astonishment 
Seized  on  the  *  French — an  universal  cry 


*  At  this  woman's  voice  amidst  the  sound  of  war,  the  com- 
bat grows  very  hot.  Our  men,  greatly  encouraged  by  the 
Virgin,  run  headlong  to  the  Bastion  and  force  a  point  thereof; 
then  fire  and  stones  rain  so  violently,  as  the  English  being 
amazed,  forsake  their  defences  :  some  are  slain  upon  the  place, 
some  throw  themselves  down  headlong,  and  fly  to  the  tower 
upon  the  bridge.  In  the  end  this  brave  Glacidas  abandons  this 
quarter,  and  retires  into  the  base  court  upon  the  bridge,  and 
after  him  a  great  number  of  his  soldiers.  The  bridge  greatly 
shaken  with  artillery,  tryed  by  fire,  and  overcharged  with  the 
weight  of  this  multitude,  sinks  into  the  water  with  a  fearful 
cry,  carrying  all  this  multitude  with  it.  De  Serves. 

This  circumstance  has  been  magnified  into  a  miracle.  "The 
French,  for  the  most  part,  draw  the  institution  of  the  order  of 
St.  Michael  principally  from  a  purpose  that  Charles  had  to 
make  ft,  after  the  apparition  of  the  Archangel  upon  Orleans 
bridge,  as  the  tutelary  angell  of  France  assisting  against  the 
English  in  1428."  Selden's  Titles  of  Honour. 

The  expressions  are  somewhat  curious  in  the  patent  of  this, 
L'ordre  de  Monsieur  St.  Michael  Ar change.  Louis  XI.  insti- 
tuted it  "  a  la  gloire  et  louange  de  Dieu  nostre  createur  tout 
puissant,  et  reverence  de  la  glorieuse  vierge  Marie,  a  Thonneur 
et  reverence  de  St.  Michael,  premier  Chevalier,  qui  par  la  que- 
relle  de  Dieu,  battaile  contre  Fancien  enemy  de  l'humain  lig- 
nage,  et  le  fit  tresbucher  de  Ciel." 
G5 


VIIT.      134 

Of  terror  burst  from  them.     Crush'd  in  the  fall, 
Or  by  their  armour  whelm'd  beneath  the  tide, 
The  sufferers  sunk,  or  vainly  plied  their  arms, 
Caught  by  some  sinking  wretch,  who  grasp' d  them  fast 
And  dragg'd  them  down  to  death  :  shrieking  they  sunk  5 
Huge  fragments  frequent  dash'd  with  thundering  roar, 
Amik  the  foaming  current.     From  the  fort 
Talbot  beheld,  and  gnash'd  his  teeth,  and  curs'd 
The  more  than  mortal  Virgin  5  whilst  the  towers 
Of  Orleans  echoed  to  the  loud  uproar, 
And  all  who  heard,  trembled,  and  cross'd  their  breasts, 
And  as  they  hastened  to  the  city  walls, 
Told  fearfully  their  beads. 

'Twas  now  the  hour 
When  o'er  the  plain  the  fading  rays  of  eve 
Their  sober  light  effuse  $  when  the  lowing  herd, 
Slow  as  they  stalk  to  shelter,  draw  behind 
The  lengthening  shades  3  and  seeking  his  high  nest, 
As  heavily  he  flaps  the  dewy  air, 
The  hoarse  rook  pours  his  not  unpleasing  note. 


VIII.      135 

u  Now  then  Dunois  for  Orleans !"  cried  the  Maid 
"  And  give  we  to  the  flames  these  monuments 
u  Of  sorrow  and  disgrace.     The  ascending  flames 
"  Shall  to  the  dwellers  of  yon  rescued  town 
"  Blaze  with  a  joyful  splendour,  while  the  foe 
"  Behold  and  tremble.'  ■ 

As  she  spake,  they  rush'd 
To  fire  the  forts  5  they  shower  their  wild  fire  there, 
And  high  amid  the  gloom  the  ascending  flames 
Blaze  up  5  then  joyful  of  their  finish'd  toil 
The  host  retire.     Hush'd  is  the  field  of  fight 
As  the  calm'd  ocean,  when  its  gentle  waves 
Heave  slow  and  silent,  wafting  tranquilly 
The  shatter' d  fragments  of  the  midnight  wreck. 


g  6 


JOAN  of  ARC 


THE  NINTH  BOOK. 


Far  thro'  the  shadowy  sky  the  ascending  *  flames 
Streamed  their  fierce  torrents,  by  the  gales  of  night 
Now  curl'd,  now  flashing  their  long  lightnings  up 
That  made  the  stars  seem  pale  \  less  frequent  now 
Thro*  the  red  volumes  the  brief  splendours  shot, 
And  blacker  waves  rolTd  o'er  the  darkened  heaven, 
Dismayed  amid  the  forts  that  yet  remain'd 
The  invaders  saw,  and  clamoured  for  retreat, 
Deeming  that  aided  by  invisible  powers 
The  Maid  went  forth  to  conquer.     Not  a  sound 


*  Lesdictes  bastiles  et  fortresses  furent  prestement  arses  et 
demolies  jusques  en  terre,  affin  que  nulles  gens  de  guerre  de 
quelconque  pays  quilz  soient  ne  si  peussent  plus  loger. 

Monstrellet.  II.  f.  43. 


IX.      138 

Moved  on  the  air  but  filled  them  with  vague  dread 

Of  unseen  dangers  5  if  the  blast  arose 

Sudden,  thro*  every  fibre  a  deep  fear 

Crept  shivering,  and  to  their  expecting  minds 

Silence  *  itself  was  dreadful*     One  there  was 

Who,  learning  wisdom  in  the  hour  of  ill, 

Exclaimed,  "  I  marvel  not  that  the  Most  High 

"  Hath  hid  his  face  from  England  !  wherefore  thus 

*f  Quitting  the  comforts  of  domestic  life, 

u  Swarm  we  to  desolate  this  goodly  land, 

"  Making  the  drenched  earth  rank  with  human  blood, 

"  Scatter  pollution  on  the  winds  of  Heaven  ? 

M  Oh  !  that  the  sepulchre  had  closed  its  jaws 

u  On  that  foul  +  Priest,  on  that  blood-guilty  man, 


*  Un  cry,  que  le  besoin  ou  la  peur  fait  jetter, 
Et  les  airs  agites  les  peuvent  agiter. 
Une  haleine,  un  souspir  et  mesme  le  silence 
Aux  chefs,  comme  aux  soldats,  font  perdre  l'assurance. 

Chapelain.  L*  ix» 

+  The  Parliament,  when  Henry  V.  demanded  supply,  en- 
treated  htm  to  seize  all  the  ecclesiastical  revenues,  and  convert 


IX.      139 

t€  Who,  trembling  for  the  Churches  ill-got  wealth, 

"  Bade  Henry  look  on  France,  ere  he  had  drawn 

"  The  desolating  sword,  and  sent  him  forth 

u  To  slaughter  !  Surely  that  holy  *  Hermit  spake 

€t  The  Almighty's  bidding,  who  in  his  career 

c<  Of  conquest  met  the  King,  and  bade  him  cease 

"  The  work  of  death,  before  the  wrath  divine 


them  to  the  use  of  the  crown.     The  Clergy  were  alarmed,  and 

Chichely,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  endeavoured  to  divert 

the  blow,  by  giving  occupation  to  the  King,  and  by  persuading 

him  to  undertake  a  war  against  France. 

Hume. 

*  While  Henry  V.  lay  at  the  siege  of  Dreux,  an  honest 

Hermit  unknown  to  him,  came  and  told  him  the  great  evils 

he  brought  upon  Christendom  by  his  unjust  ambition,  who 

usurped  the  kingdom  of  France,  against  all  manner  of  right, 

and  contrary  to  the  will  of  God ;  wherefore  in  his  holy  name 

he  threatened  him  with  a  severe  and  sudden  punishment,  if  he 

desisted  not  from  his  enterprize.     Henry  took  this  exhortation 

either  as  an  idle  whimsey,  or  a  suggestion  of  the  Dauphin's, 

and  was  but  the  more  confirmed  in  his  design.     But  the  blow 

soon  followed  the  threatening;  for  within  some  few  months 

after,  he  was  smitten  in  the  fundament  with  a  strange  and  in* 

curable  disease. 

Merzerov* 


IX.      140 

"  Fell  heavy  on  his  head ; . .  and  soon  it  fell 

"  And  sunk  him  to  the  grave j  . .  and  soon  that  wrath 

"  On  us,  alike  in  sin,  alike  shall  fall, 

"  For  thousands  and  ten  thousands,  by  the  sword 

"  Cut  off,  and  sent  before  the  Eternal  Judge, 

"  With  all  their  unrepented  crimes  upon  them, 

<(  Cry  out  for  vengeance !  for  the  widow's  groan, 

"  Tho'  here  she  groan  unpitied  or  unheard, 

tc  Is  heard  in  Heaven  against  us  !  o'er  this  land 

"  For  hills  of  human  slain,  unsepulchred, 

"  Steam  pestilence,  and  cloud  the  blessed  sun  ! 

"  The  wrath  of  God  is  on  us, . .  God  has  call'd 

€C  This  Virgin  forth,  and  gone  before  her  path  5  . . 

t(  Our  brethren,  vainly  valiant,  fall  beneath  them, 

e<  Clogging  with  gore  their  weapons,  or  in  the  flood 

"  Whelm'd  like  the  Egyptian  tyrant's  impious  host, 

"  Mangled  and  swoln,  their  blackened  carcasses 

fi  Toss  on  the  tossing  billows  !  We  remain, 

"  For  yet  our  rulers  will  pursue  the  war, 

u  We  still  remain  to  perish  by  the  sword, 


IX.     141 

c<  Soon  to  appear  before  the  throne  of  God, 
w  Lost,,  guilty  wretches,  hireling  murderers, 
M  Uninjur'd,  unprovok'd,  who  dared  to  risk 
"  The  life  his  goodness  gave  us,  on  the  chance 
€t  Of  war,  and  in  obedience  to  our  Chiefs, 
"  Durst  disobey  our  God." 

Then  terror  seized 
The  troops  and  late  repentance  :  and  they  thought 
The  Spirits  of  their  Mothers  and  their  Babes 
Famish'd  at  Roan,  sat  on  the  clouds  of  night, 
Circling  the  forts,  to  hail  with  gloomy  joy 
The  hour  of  vengeance*. 

Nor  the  English  Chief* 
Heard  their  loud  murmurs  heedless :  counselling 


Reseraverat  antrum 


Tartareus  Rector  pallens,  utque  arma  nefanda 
Spectarent,  caperentque  sui  solatia  fati, 
Invisas  illuc  Libyes  emiserat  umbras; 
Undique  consedere  arvis,  nigraque  corona 
Infecere  diem,  versatilis  umbra  Jugurthae, 
Annibalis  saevi  Manes,  captique  Syphacis, 


IX.      142 

They  met  despondent.     Suffolk  now  their  Chief, 
Since  conquered  by  the  arm  of  Theodore 
Fell  Salisbury,  thus  began. 

u  It  now  were  vain 
u  Lightly  of  this  our  more  than  mortal  foe, 
*f  To  speak  contemptuous.     She  hath  vanquish'd  us, 
<c  Aided  by  Hell's  leagued  powers,  nor  aught  avails 
u  Man  unassisted  'gainst  the  powers  of  *  Hell 


Qui  nunc  eversas  secum  Carthaginis  aroes 
Ignovere  Deis,  postquam  feralia  campi 
Praelia  Thapsiaci,  et  Latios  videre  furores, 

Supplementum  Lucani,  Lib.  III. 

I  am  not  conscious  of  having  imitated  these  lines ;  but  I 
would  not  lose  the  opportunity  of  quoting  so  fine  a  passage 
from  Thomas  May,  an  author  to  whom  I  owe  some  obliga- 
tions, and  who  is  not  remembered  as  his  merits  deserve.  May 
himself  has  imitated  Valerius  Flaccus,  tho*  he  has  greatly  sur- 
passed him. 

Et  pater  orantes  caesorum  Tartarus  umbras, 
Nube  cava,  tandem  ad  meritae  spectacula  pugnse 
Emittit ;  summi  nigrescunt  culmina  montis. 

*  To  some,  says  Speed,  it  may  appear  more  honourable  to 
our  nation,  that  they  were  not  to  be  expelled  by  a  human 
power,  but  by  a  divine,  extraordinarily  revealing  itself. 


IX.     143 

"  To  dare  the  conflict :  were  it  best  remain 
"  Waiting  the  doubtful  aid  of  Burgundy, 
"  Doubtful  and  still  delayed )  or  from  this  scene, 
"  Scene  of  our  shame,  retreating  as  we  may, 
"  Yet  struggle  to  preserve  the  guarded  towns 
"  Of  Orleannois?" 

He  ceas'd,  and  with  a  sigh, 
Struggling  with  pride  that  heav'd  his  gloomy  breast, 
Talbot  replied,  "  Our  council  little  boots ; 
<e  For  by  their  numbers  now  made  bold  *  in  fear 
"  The  soldiers  will  not  right,  they  will  not  heed 
<(  Our  vain  resolves,  heart- withered  by  the  spells 
"  Of  this  accursed  Sorceress  :  soon  will  come, 
te  The  expected  host  from  England  :  even  now 
"  Perchance  the  tall  bark  scuds  across  the  deep 
"  That  bears  my  son  :  young  Talbot  comes, . .  he  comes 


*  Nee  pavidum  murmur;  consensu  audacia  crevit, 
Tantaque  turba  metu  poenarum  solvit  ad  omni. 

Sup,  Lucani* 


IX.     144 

**  To  find  his  sire  disgraced!  but  soon  mine  arm, 
*<  By  vengeance  nerved,  and  shame  of  such  defeat, 
"  Shall,  from  the  crest-fallen  courage  of  yon  witch, 
"  Regain  its  antient  glory.     Near  the  coast 
"  Best  is  it  to  retreat,  and  there  expect 
*'  The  coming  succour." 

Thus  the  warrior  spake. 
Joy  ran  thro1  all  the  *  troops,  as  tho'  retreat 
Were  safety.     Silently  in  ordered  ranks 
They  issue  forth,  favoured  by  the  deep  clouds 
That  mantled  o'er  the  moon.     With  throbbing  hearts 
Fearful  they  speeded  on  :  some,  thinking  sad 
Of  distant  England,  and,  now  wise  too  late, 
Cursing  in  bitterness  that  evil  hour 
That  led  them  from  her  shores  :  some  in  faint  hope 
Calling  to  mind  the  comforts  of  their  home  : 


*  In  Rymer's  Fcedera  are  two  proclamations,  one  <e  contra 
Capitaneos  et  Soldarios  tergiversantes,  incantationibus  Puellse 
terrificatos ;"  the  other,  "  de  fugitivis  ab  exercitu  quos  terrw 
culamenta  Paella?  exanimaverant,  arestandis." 


IX.      145 

Talbot  went  musing  on  his  blasted  fame 
Sullen  and  stern,  and  feeding  on  dark  thoughts, 
And  meditating  vengeance. 

In  the  walls 
Of  Orleans,  tho'  her  habitants  with  joy 
Humbly  acknowledged  the  high  aid  of  Heaven, 
Of  many  a  heavy  ill  and  bitter  loss 
Mindful,  such  mingled  sentiments  they  felt 
As  one  from  shipwreck  saved,  the  first  warm  glow 
Of  transport  past,  who  contemplates  himself, 
Preserved  alone,  a  solitary  wretch, 
Possessed  of  life  indeed,  but  reft  of  all 
That  makes  man  love  to  live.     The  Chieftains  shared 
The  social  *  bowl,  glad  of  the  town  relieved, 
And  communing  of  that  miraculous  Maid, 


*  Ronsard  remarks, 

Rien  n'est  meilleur  pour  l'homme  soulager 
Aprcs  le  mal,  que  le  boire  et  manger. 

Franciadc* 


IX.     146 

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 : 
Conrade  with  her,  and  Isabel  5  both  mute. 
Yet  gazing  on  her  oft  with  eloquent  eye, 
Looking  the  consolation  that  they  fear'd 
To  give  a  voice  to.     Now  they  reach'd  the  dome : 
The  glaring  torches  o'er  the  house  of  death 
Stream'd  a  sad  splendour.     Flowers  and  funeral  herbs 
Bedeck' d  the  bier  of  Theodore :  the  rue, 
The  dark  green  rosemary,  and  the  violet, 
That  pluck'd  like  him  withered  in  its  first  bloom. 
Dissolved  in  sorrow,  Isabel  her  grief 
Pour'd  copious  5  Conrade  wept :  the  Maid  alone 
Was  tearless,  for  she  stood  unheedingly, 
Gazing  the  vision' d  scene  of  her  last  hour, 
Absorb'd  in  contemplation  3  from  her  eye 
Intelligence  was  absent  $  nor  she  seem'd 


IX.      147 

To  hear,  tho'  listening  to  the  dirge  of  death, 
Laid  in  his  last  home  now  was  Theodore, 
And  now  upon  the  coffin  thrown,  the  earth 
Fell  heavy :  the  Maid  started,  for  the  sound 
Smote  on  her  heart  ;  her  eye  one  lightning  glance 
Shot  wild,  and  shuddering,  upon  Isabel 
She  hung,  her  pale  lips  trembling,  and  her  cheek 
As  wan  as  tho'  untenanted  by  life. 

Then  in  the  Priest  arose  the  earnest  hope, 

That  weary  of  the  world  and  sick  with  woe, 

The  Maid  might  dwell  with  them  a  vestal  vowed. 

"  Ah  Damsel !"  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  5  Heaven  by  sorrow  disciplines 

<(  The  froward  heart,  and  chastens  whom  it  loves ; 

"  Therefore,  companion  of  thy  way  of  life, 

"  Affliction  thee  shall  wean  from  this  vain  world, 

«  Where  happiness  provokes  the  traveller's  chase, 


ix.    m 

*'  And  like  the  midnight  meteor  of  the  marsh, 

"  Allures  his  long  and  perilous  pursuit, 

«  Then  leaves  him  dark  and  comfortless.     O  Maid  ! 

"  Fix  thou  thine  eyes  upon  that  heavenly  dawn 

4C  Beyond  the  night  of  life  !  thy  race  is  run, 

"  Thou  hast  delivered  Orleans  :  now  perfect 

"  Thyself  5  accomplish  all,  and  be  the  child 

u  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, 

u  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  dbom'd 
rr  This  Maid  to  active  virtue." 

■      <<■  Active  !"  cried 


IX.      149 

The  astonish'd  Priest  j  u  thou  dost  not  know  the  toils 

"  This  holy  warfare  asks  -,  thou  dost  not  know 

<(  How  powerful  the  attacks  that  Satan  makes 

c '  By  sinful  Nature  aided  !  dost  thou  deem 

u  It  is  an  easy  task  from  the  fond  breast 

f<  To  root  affection  out  ?  to  burst  the  cords 

u  That  grapple  to  society  the  heart 

t(  Of  social  man  ?  to  rouse  the  unwilling  spirit, 

"  That,  rebel  to  Devotion,  faintly  pours 

$  The  cold  lip- worship  of  the  wearying  prayer  ? 

"  To  fear  and  tremble  at  him,  yet  to  lovre 

"  A  God  of  Terrors  ?  Maid,  beloved  of  Heaven  ! 

"  Come  to  this  sacred  trial !  share  with  us 

u  The  day  of  penance  and  the  night  of  prayer ! 

ff  Humble  thyself!  feel  thine  own  worthlessness, 

"  A  reptile  worm  !  before  thy  birth  condemn' d 

(<  To  all  the  horrors  of  thy  Maker's  wrath, 

,(  The  lot  of  fallen  mankind  !  oh  hither  come  ! 

u  Humble  thyself  in  ashes,  so  thy  name 

*•  Shall  live  amid  the  blessed  host  of  saints, 

VOL.   II.  H 


IX.      150 

u  And  unborn  pilgrims  at  thy  hallowed  shrine 
<f  Pour  forth  their  pious  offerings." 

"  Hear  me  Priest !'" 
Exclaim'd  the  awakened  Maid  ;  "  amid  these  tombs, 
94  Cold  as  their  clayey  tenants,  know,  my  heart 
u  Must  never  grow  to  stone  !  chill  thou  thyself, 
<c  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 
u  And  joyless  ivy,  round  the  cloister's  wall 
*f  Wreathing  its  barren  arms.     For  me  I  know 
€<  Mine  own  worth,  Priest !  that  I  have  well  perform'^ 
((  My  duty,  and  untrembling  shall  appear 
C{  Before  the  just  tribunal  of  that  God, 
u  Whom  grateful  love  has  taught  me  to  adore  !" 

Severe  she  spake,  for  sorrow  in  her  heart 


IX.      151 

Had  wrought  unwonted  sternness.     From  the  dome 
They  past  in  silence,  when  with  hasty  steps, 
Sent  by  the  assembled  Chieftains,  one  they  met 
Seeking  the  missioned  virgin,  as  alarm'd, 
The  herald  of  all  tidings. 

«  Holy  Maid t 
He  cried,  u  they  ask  thy  counsel.     Burgundy 
<e  Comes  in  the  cause  of  England,  and  his  troops 
u  Scarce  three  leagues  from  our  walls,  a  fearful  power 
P  Rest  tented  for  the  night.'* 

"  Say  to  the  Chiefs, 
"  At  morn  I  will  be  with  them,"  she  replied. 
"  Meantime  their  welfare  well  shall  occupy 
"  My  nightly  thoughts." 

So  saying  on  she  past 
Thoughtful  and  silent.     A  brief  while  she  mus'd, 
Brief,  but  sufficing  to  impel  the  soul, 
As  with  a  strange  and  irresistible  force, 
To  loftiest  daring.     "  Conrade  !"  she  exclaim'd 
<e  I  pray  thee  meet  me  at  the  eastern  gate 
h  2 


IX.      152 

w  With  a  swift  steed  prepared  :  for  I  must  hence." 

Her  voice  was  calm  -,  nor  Conrade  thro'  the  gloom 
Saw  the  faint  flush  that  witness'd  on  her  cheek 
High  thoughts  conceived.     She  to  her  home  repair'd 
And  with  a  light  and  unplumed  *  casquetel 
She  helm'd  her  head  P  hung  from  her  neck  f  the  shield 
And  forth  she  went. 


*  A  lighter  kind  of  helmet. 


i  The  shield  was  often  worn  thus.  "Among  the  French- 
men there  was,  a  young  lusty  Esquire  of  Gascoigfre,  named 
William  Marchant,  who  came  out  among  the  foremost  into 
the  field,  well  mounted,  his  shield  about  his  neck,  and  his 
spear  in  his  hand." 

Barnes. 

This  is  frequently  alluded  to  in   Romance.     "  Then  the 

Knight  of  the  burning  sword  stept  forward,  and  lifting  up  his 

arm  as  if  he  would  strike  Cynocephal  on  the  top  of  his  head, 

seized  with  his  left  hand  on  the  shield,  which  he  pulled  to  him 

with  so  much  strength,   that  plucking  it  from  his  neck  he 

brought  him  to  the  ground.'* 

Amadis  de  Greece* 

Sometimes  the  shield  was  laced  to  the  shoulder* 


IX.     153 

Her  Conrade  by  the  wall 
Awaited.     u  May  I  Maiden  seek  unblamed 
"  Whither  this  midnight  journey  ?  may  I  share 
u  The  peril  ?"  cried  the  warrior.     She  rejoin'd, 
4f  This  Conrade,  may  not  be.     Alone  I  go. 
<f  That  impulse  of  the  soul  that  comes  from  God 
"  Hath  summon'd  me.     Of  this  remain  assui'd, 
"  If  ought  of  patriot  enterprize  required 


The  shield  of  the  middle  ages  must  not  be  confounded  with 
that  of  the  ancients.  The  Knight  might  easily  bear  his  small 
shield  around  his  neck  ;  but  the  Grecian  warrior  stood  pro- 
tecting his  thighs  and  his  legs,  his  breast  also  and  his  shoulders 
tcith  the  body  of  his  broad  shield, 

M^bj  T£  xv*?/xacs-  re  ycxrco  xxt  <rngva,  ycxi  vpss 
'   Acnrt^os  svgztvjs  yx&rgi  k<xAi/\]/ oc[xtvos. 

TTPTAIOS, 

But  the  most  convenient  shields  were  used  by 

Ceux  qu'on  voit  demeurer  dans  les  iles  Alandes, 
Qui  portent  pour  pavois,  des  escailles  si  grandes, 
Que  lors  qu'il  faut  camper,  le  soMat  qui  s'en  sert 
En  fait  comme  une  hutte,  et  s'y  met  a  couvert. 

Alaric» 
H3 


IX.     154 

rr  Associate  firmness,  thou  shoulclst  be  the  man, 
u  Best, . .  last, . .  and  only  friend  !" 

So  up  she  sprung 
And  left  him.     He  beheld  the  warden  close 
The  gate,  and  listened  to  her  courser's  tramp, 
Till  soon  upon  his  ear  the  far-off  sound 
Fell  faintly,,  and  was  lost. 

Swift  o'er  the  vale 
Sped  the  good  courser ;  eagerly  the  Maid 
Gave  the  loose  rein,  and  now  her  speed  attain'd 
The  dark  encampment.     Thro'  the  sleeping  ranks 
Onward  she  past.     The  trampling  of  the  steed 
Or  mingled  with  the  soldier's  busy  dreams, 
Or  with  vague  terrors  fill'd  his  startled  sense, 
Prompting  the  secret  prayer. 

So  on  she  past 
To  where  in  loftier  shade  arose  the  tent 
Of  Burgundy  :  light  leaping  from  her  seat 
She  entered. 

On  the  earth  the  chieftain  slept., 


IX.      155 

His  mantle  scarft  around  him  \  armed  all, 

Save  that  his  shield  hung  near  him,  and  his  helm, 

And  by  his  side  in  warrior  readiness 

The  sheathed  falchion  lay.     Profound  he  slept, 

Nor  heard  the  speeding  courser's  founding  hoof, 

Nor  entering  footstep.     '*  Burgundy,"  she  cried, 

"  What,  Burgundy!  awake  !"     He  started  up 

And  caught  the  gleam  of  arms,  and  to  his  sword 

Reach'd  the  quick  hand.     But  soon  his  upward  glance 

Thrill'd  him,  for  full  upon  her  face  the  lamp 

Stream' d  its  deep  glare,  and  in  her  solemn  look 

Was  most  unearthly  meaning.     Pale  she  was, 

But  in  her  eye  a  saintly  lustre  beam'd, 

And  that  most  calm  and  holiest  confidence 

That  guilt  knows  never.     <e  Burgundy,  thou  seest 

11  The  Maid  of  Orleans  !" 

As  she  spake,  a  voice 
Exclaim'd,  "  die  sorceress !"  and  a  knight  rush'd  ia, 
Whose  name  by  her  illustrated  yet  lives, 
Francmet  of  Arras.     With  uplifted  arm 
H.  4 


IX.     156 

Furious  he  came ;  her  buckler  broke  the  blow, 
And  forth  she  flash'd  her  sword,  and  with  a  stroke 
Swift  that  no  eye  could  ward  it,  and  of  strength 
No  mail  might  blunt,  smote  on  his  neck,  his  neck 
Unfenced,  for  he  in  haste  aroused  had  cast 
An  *  armet  on ;  resistless  there  she  smote 
And  to  the  earth  prone  fell  the  headless  trunk 
Of  Franquet. 

Then  on  Burgundy  she  fixed 
Her  eye  severe.     <f  Go  Chief,  and  thank  thy  God 
"  That  he  with  lighter  judgments  visits  thee 
u  Than  fell  on  Sisera,  or  by  Judith's  hand 
«  He  wrought  upon  the  Assyrian  !  thank  thy  God 
"  That  when  his  vengeance  smote  the  ruffian  sons 
"  Of  England,  equalled  tho'  thou  wert  in  guilt, 


*  The  Armet  or  Chapelle  de  fer  was  an  iron  hat,  occasion- 
ally'put  on  by  Knights  when  they  retired  from  the  heat  of  the 
battle  to  take  breath,  and  at  times  when  they  could  riot  with 
propriety  go  unarmed. 


IX.     157 

«  Thee  he  has  spared  to  work  by  penitence 
"  And  better  deeds  atonement. '' 

Thus  she  spake, 
Then  issued  forth,  and  bounding  on  her  steed 
Sped  o'er  the  plain.     Dark  on  the  upland  bank 
The  hedge- row  trees  distinct  and  colourless 
Rose  o'er  the  grey  horizon,  and  the  Loire 
Form'd  in  its  winding  way  islands  of  light 
Amid  the  shadowy  vale,  when  now  she  reach'd 
The  walls  of  Orleans. 

From  the  eastern  clouds. 
The  sun  came  forth,  as  to  the  assembled  chiefs    ' 
The  Maiden  past.     Her  bending  thitherwards 
The  Bastard  met.     "  New  perils  threaten  us," 
He  cried,  "  new  toils  await  us ;  Burgundy, . . . 

"  Fear  not  for  Burgundy  !"  the  Maid  exclaim'd, 
"  Him  will  the  Lord  direct.     Our  earliest  scouts 
f?  Shall  tell  his  homeward  march.     What  of  the  troops 
f  Of  England?" 

H  5 


IX.      158 

"  They/5  the  son  of  Orleans  cried, 
"  By  darkness  favoured,,  fled  5  yet  not  by  flight 
"  Shall  England's  robber  sons  escape  the  arm 
"  Of  retribution.     Even  now  our  troops, 
"  By  battle  unfatigued,  unsatisfied 
u  With  conquest,  clamour  to  pursue  the  foe." 

The  Delegated  Damsel  thus  replied: 

"  So  let  them  fly,  Dunois  !  but  other  toils 

<f  Than  those  of  battle,  these  our  hallowed  troops 

u  Await.     Look  yonder  to  that  carnaged  plain  ! 

ei  Behoves  us  there  to  delve  the  general  grave. 

M  Then,  Chieftain,  for  pursuit,  when  we  have  paid 

<(  The  rites  of  burial  to  our  fellow  men, 

"  And  hymn*d  our  gratitude  to  that  All- just 

"  Who  gave  the  conquest.    Thou,  meantime,  dispatch 

u  Tidings  to  Chinon  :  bid  the  King  set  forth, 

u  That  crowning  him  before  assembled  France, 

•*  In  Rheims  delivered  from  the  enemy, 

"  I  may  accomplish  all," 


ix.  m 

So  said  the  Maid, 
Then  to  the  gate  moved  on.     The  assembled  troops 
Beheld  their  coming  Chief,  and  smote  their  shields, 
Clamouring  their  admiration  j  for  they  thought 
That  she  would  lead  them  to  the  instant  war. 
She  waved  her  hand,  and  Silence  still'd  the  host. 
Then  thus  the  mission'd  Maid,  "  Fellows  in  arms  I 
u  We  must  not  speed  to  joyful  victory, 
ee  Whilst  our  unburied  comrades,  on  yon  plain, 
cc  Allure  the  carrion  bird.     Give  we  this  day 
'I  To  our  dead  friends  !" 

Nor  did  she  speak  in  vain  y 
For  as  she  spake,  the  thirst  of  battles  dies 
In  every  breast,  such  awe  and  love  pervade 
The  listening  troops.    They  o'er  the  corse-strewn  plain 
Speed  to  their  sad  employment :   some  dig  deep 
The  house  of  Death :  some  bear  the  lifeless  load  ; 
One  little  troop  search  carefully  around, 
If  haply  they  might  find  surviving  yet 
Some  wounded  wretches.     As  they  labour  thus^ 
hG 


IX.     160 

They  mark  far  off  the  iron-blaze  of  arms ; 
See  distant  standards  waving  on  the  air, 
And  hear  the  clarion's  clang.     Then  spake  the  Maid 
To  Conrade,  and  she  bade  him  speed  to  view 
The  coming  army  5  or  to  meet  their  march 
With  friendly  greeting,  or  if  foes  they  came 
With  such  array  of  battle  as  short  space 
Allowed  :  the  Warrior  sped  across  the  plain, 
And  soon  beheld  the  bannered  lilies  wave. 

Their  Chief  was  Richemont :  he,  when  as  he  heard 
What  rites  employed  the  Virgin,  straightway  bade 
His  troops  assist  in  burial  -,  they,  tho'  grieved 
At  late  arrival,  and  the  expected  day 
Of  conquest  past,  yet  give  their  willing  aid  : 
They  dig  the  general  grave,  and  thither  bear 
English  or  French  alike  commingled  now, 
And  heap  the  mound  of  Death. 

Amid  the  Plain 
There  was  a  little  eminence,  of  old 


IX.     151 

Piled  o'er  some  honoured  Chieftain's  narrow  house. 
His  praise  the  song  had  ceas'd  to  celebrate, 
And  many  an  unknown  age  had  the  long  grass 
Waved  o'er  the  nameless  mound,  tho'  barren  now 
Beneath  the  frequent  tread  of  multitudes. 
There  elevate,  the  Martial  Maiden  stood, 
Her  brow  unhelmed,  and  floating  on  the  wind 
Her  long  dark  locks.     The  silent  troops  around 
Stood  thickly  throng'd,  as  o'er  the  fertile  field 
Billows  the  ripen'd  corn.     The  passing  breeze 
Bore  not  a  murmur  from  the  numerous  host, 
Such  deep  attention  held  them.     She  began. 

"  Glory  to  those  who  in  their  country's  cause 

"  Fall  in  the  field  of  battle !  Citizens, 

"  I  stand  not  here  to  mourn  these  gallant  men, 

"  Our  comrades,  nor  with  vain  and  idle  phrase 

"  Of  pity  and  compassion,  to  console 

"  The  friends  who  loved  them.  They,  indeed,  who  fall 

g<  Beneath  Oppression's  banner,  merit  well 


IX.      162 

ci  Our  pity ;  may  the  God  of  Peace  and  Love 
<:  Be  merciful  to  those  blood-guilty  men 
ec  Who  came  to  desolate  the  realm  of  France, 
<(  To  make  us  bow  the  knee,  and  crouch  like  slaves, 
c:  Before  a  tyrant's  footstool !   Give  to  these, 
u  And  to  their  wives  and  orphan  little-ones 
"  That  on  their  distant  father  vainly  cry 
"  For  bread,  give  these  your  pity.     Wretched  men* 
' '  Forced  or  inveigled  from  their  homes,  or  driven 
"  By  Need  and  Hunger  to  the  trade  of  blood  j 
"  Or,  if  with  free  and  willing  mind  they  came, 
({  Most  wretched,  .  .for  before  the  eternal  throne 
u  They  stand,  as  hireling  murderers  arraign'd. 
u  But  our  dead  comrades  for  their  freedom  fought; 
"  No  arts  they  needed,  nor  the  specious  bribes  . 
<(  Of  promise,  to  allure  them  to  this  fight, 
*'  This  holy  warfare  !  them  their  parents  sent, 
te  And  as  they  raised  their  streaming  eyes  to  Heaven, 
"  Bade  them  go  forth,  and  from  the  ruffian's  sword 
4t  Save  their  grey  hairs:   these  men  their  wives  sent 
forth, 


IX.      163 

"  Fix'd  their  last  kisses  on  their  *  armed  hands, 

"  And  bade  them  in  the  battle  think  they  fought 

"  For  them  and  for  their  babes.    Thus  roused  to  rage 

' '  By  every  milder  feeling,  they  rush'd  forth, 

"  They  fought,  they  conquer'd.    To  this  high-rear'd 

mound 
fe  The  men  of  Orleans  shall  in  after  days 
"  Bring  their  young  boys,  and  tell  them  of  the  deeds 
u  Our  gallant  friends  atchieved,  and  bid  them  learn 
"  Like  them  to  love  their  country,  and  like  them, 
rc  Should  wild  Oppression  pour  again  it's  tide 
"  Of  desolation,  to  step  forth  and  stem 
«'  Fearless,  the  furious  torrent.     Men  of  France  ! 


*  Sed  contra  (Enotria  pubep 
Non  ullus- voces  ducis  aut  prsecepta  requirit. 
Sat  matres  stimulant,  natique,  et  cara  supinas 
Tendentum  palmas  lacrimantiaque  ora  parentum. 
Ostentant  parvos,  vagituque  incita  pulsant 
Corda  virum,  armatis  infigunt  oscula  dextris. 

Silius  ItaKcus*  xii.  507.- 


IX.      164 

c;  Mourn  not  for  these  our  comrades ;  boldly  they 
<c  Fought  the  good  fight,  and  that  Eternal  One> 
"  Who  bade  the  angels  harbinger  his  word 
u  With  a  Peace  on  Earth/'  rewards  them.   We  sur- 
vive, 
€<  Honouring  their  memories  to  avenge  their  fall 
u  On  England's  ruffian  hordes ;  in  vain  her  chiefs 
"  Madly  will  drain  her  wealth  and  waste  her  blood 
u  To  conquer  this  vast  realm  \  for,  easier  were  it 
"  To  hurl  the  rooted  mountain  from  it's  base, 
"  Than  force  the  yoke  of  slavery  upon  men 
94  Determin'd  to  be  free  :  yes,  . .  let  them  rage, 
t(  And  drain  their  country's  wealth,  and  waste  her 

blood, 
"  And  pour  their  hireling  thousands  on  our  coasts, 
"  Sublime  amid  the  storm  shall  France  arise, 
< <  And  like  the  rock  amid  surrounding  waves, 
"  Repel  the  rushing  ocean,  . .  she  shall  wield 
«  The  thunder, . .  she  shall  blast  her  despot  foes. 


JOAN  of  ARC 


THE  TENTH  BOOK. 


Thus  to  the  Martyrs  in  their  country's  cause 

The  Maiden  gave  their  fame  5  and  when  she  ceas'd, 

Such  murmur  from  the  multitude  arose, 

As  when  at  twilight  hour  the  summer  breeze 

Moves  o'er  the  elmy  vale :  there  was  not  one 

"Who  mourn'd  with  feeble  sorrow  for  his  friend, 

Slain  in  the  fight  of  Freedom  ;  or  if  chance' 

Remembrance  with  a  tear  suffus'd  the  eye, 

The  Patriot's  joy  flash'd  thro*. 

And  now  the  rites 
Of  sepulture  perform'd,  the  hymn  to  Heaven 
They  chaunted.     To  the  town  the  Maid  returned, 
Dunois-  with  her,  and  Richemont,  and  the  man, 
Conrade,  whose  converse  most  the  Virgin  lavtf. 


X.     166 

They  of  pursuit  and  of  the  future  war 

Sat  communing ;  when  loud  the  trumpet's  voice 

Proclaimed  approaching  herald. 

"  To  the  Maid/* 
Exclaim'd  the  Messenger,  "  and  thee,  Dunois, 
"  Son  of  the  Chief  he  loved  !  Du  Chastel  sends 
"  Greeting.     The  aged  warrior  has  not  spared 
"  All  active  efforts  to  partake  your  toil, 
"  And  serve  his  country  -,  and  tho'  late  arrived, 
i%  He  share  not  in  the  fame  your  arms  acquire ; 
f€  His  heart  is  glad  that  he  is  late  arrived, 
"  And  France  preserved  thus  early.     He  were  here 
*'  To  join  your  host,  and  follow  on  their  flight, 
u  But  Richemont  is  his  foe.     To  that  high  Lord 
"  Thus  says  my  master :   We,  tho'  each  to  each 
<c  Be  hostile,  are  alike  the  embattled  sons 
"  Of  this  our  common  country.     Do  thou  join 
"  The  conquering  troops,  and  prosecute  success; 
"  I  will  the  while  assault  what  guarded  towns 
(f  Bedford  yet  holds  in  Orleannois :  one  day. 


X.      167 

'>  Perhaps  the  Constable  of  France  may  learn 
u  He  wrong  d  Du  Chastel.'' 

As  the  Herald  spake> 
The  crimson  current  rush'd  to  Richemont's  cheek. 
"  Tell  to  thy  master/'  eager  he  replied, 
"  I  am  the  foe  of  those  Court  Parasites 
({  Who  poison  the  King  s  ear.     Him  who  shall  serve 
"  Our  country  in  the  field,  I  hold  my  friend : 
a  Such  may  Du  Chastel  prove." 

So  said  the  Chief, 
And  pausing  as  the  Herald  went  his  way, 
Gaz'd  on  the  Virgin.     "  Maiden  !  if  aright 
«  I  deem,  thou  dost  not  with  a  friendly  eye 
"  Scan  my  past  deeds.'' 

Then  o'er  the  Damsel's  cheek 
A  faint  glow  spread.  "  True  Chieftain  !"  she  replied, 
(t  Report  bespeaks  thee  haughty,  of  thy  power 
"  Jealous,  and  to  the  shedding  human  blood 
*'  Revengeful." 

"  Maid  of  Orleans !"  he  exclaim'^ 


X.      168 

"  Should  the  wolf  slaughter  thy  defenceless  flock, 

"  Were  it  a  crime  if  thy  more  mighty  force 

•'  Destroyed  the  fell  destroyer  ?  if  thy  hand 

"  Had  pierced  the  Ruffian  as  he  burst  thy  door 

1C  Prepare  for  midnight  murder,  would' st  thou  feel 

"  The  weight  of  blood  press  heavy  on  thy  soul  ? 

(i  I  slew  the  Wolves  of  State,  the  Murderers 

"  Of  thousands.     JOAN!  when  rusted  in  its  sheath, 

"  The  sword  of  Justice  hung,  blamest  thou  the  man 

'<  That  lent  his  weapon  for  the  virtuous  deed  }? 

Conrade  replied.     Nay,  Richemont,  it  were  well 

t€  To  pierce  the  ruffian  as  he  burst  thy  doors  \ 

"  But  if  he  bear  the  plunder  safely  thence, 

<f  And  thou  should'st  meet  him  on  the  future,  day, 

«  Vengeance  must  not  be  thine :   there  is  the  Law 

(C  To  punish  j  and  if  thy  impatient  hand, 

((  Unheard  and  uncondemn' d,  should  execute 

"Death  on  that  man,  Justice  will  not  allow 

"The  Judge  in  the  Accuser  !" 


X.      169 

<(  Thou  hast  said 
**  Right  wisely,  Warrior  *.-"  cried  the  Constable ; 
"  But  there  are  guilty  ones  above  the  law, 
u  Men  whose  black  crimes  exceed  the  utmost  bound 
"  Of  private  guilt;  court  vermin  that  buz  round, 
"  And  fly-blow  the  King's  ear,  and  make  him  waste, 
(<  In  this  most  perilous  time,  his  people's  wealth 
"  And  blood  :  immers'd  one  while  in  criminal  sloth, 
!*  Heedless  tho*  ruin  threat  the  realm  they  rule  \ 
"  And  now  projecting  some  mad  enterprize, 
"  To  certain  slaughter  send  their  wretched  troops. 
"  These  are  the  men  that  make  the  King  suspect 
"  His  wisest,  faithfullest,  best  Counsellors  5 
"  And  for  themselves  and  their  dependents,  seize 
u  All  places,  and  all  profits  5  and  they  wrest 
"  To  their  own  ends  the  Statutes  of  the  land, 
"  Or  safely  break  them  :  thus,  or  indolent, 
"  Or  active,   ruinous  alike  to  France. 
"  Wisely  thou  say  est,  Warrior  !  that  the  Law 
4<  Should  strike  the  guilty  5  but  the  voice  of  Justice 


X.      170' 

u  Cries  out,  and  brings  conviction  as  it  cries, 

"  Whom  the  Laws  cannot  reach  the  Dagger  should,'* 

The  Maid  replied,  "  I  blame  thee  not,  O  Chief! 

(<  If,  reasoning  to  thine  own  conviction  thus, 

tf  Thou  didst,  well-satisfied,  destroy  these  men 

"  Above  the  Law  :  but  if  a  meaner  one, 

"  Self-constituting  him  the  Minister 

"  Of  Justice  to  the  death  of  these  bad  men, 

"  Had  wrought  the  deed,  him  would  the  Laws  have 

"  seized, 
u  And  docm'd  a  Murderer :  thee,  thy  pdwer  preserved! 
"  And  what  hast  thou  exampled  ?  thou  hast  taught 
u  All  men  to  execute  what  deeds  of  blood 
"  Their  will  or  passion  sentence  :  right  and  wrong 
"  Confounding  thus,  and  making  Power,  of  all, 
rr  Sole  arbiter.     Thy  acts  were  criminal, 
"  Yet  Richemont,  for  thou  didst  them  self- approved,- 
"  I  may  not  blame  the  agent.     Trust  me,  Chief! 
"  That  when  a  people  sorely  are  opprest, 


X.     171 

ts  The  hour  of  violence  will  come  too  soon ! 
"  He  best  meanwhile  performs  the  Patriot's  part, 
u  Who,  in  the  ear  of  Rage  and  Faction,  breathes 
"  The  healing  words  of  Love." 

Thus  communed  they* 
Meantime,  all  panic  struck  and  terrified, 
The  English  urge  their  flight  5  by  other  thoughts 
Possess' d  than  when,  elate  with  arrogance, 
They  dreamt  of  conquest,  and  the  crown  of  France 
At  their  disposal.     Of  their  hard-fought  fields, 
Of  glory  hardly-earn'd,  and  lost  with  shame, 
Of  friends  and  brethren  slaughter'd,  and  the  fate 
Threatening  themselves,  they  brooded  sadly,  now 
Repentant  late  and  vainly.     They  whom  fear 
Erst  made  obedient  to  their  conquering  march, 
At  their  defeat  exultant,  wreak  what  ills 
Their  power  allow'd.     Thus  many  a  league  they  fled^ 
Marking  their  path  with  ruin,  day  by  day 
Leaving  the  weak  and  wounded  destitute 
To  the  foe's  mercy  ;  thinking  of  their  home, 


X.      172 

Tho*  to  that  far-off  prospect  scarcely  Hope 
Could  raise  her  sickly  eye.     Oh  then  what  joy 
Inspir'd  anew  their  bosoms,  when,  like  clouds 
Moving  in  shadows  down  the  distant  hill, 
They  mark'd  their  coming  succours  !  in  each  heart 
Doubt  rais'd  a  busy  tumult ;  soon  they  knew 
The  friendly  standard,  and  a  general  shout 
Burst  from  the  joyful  ranks  :  yet  came  no  joy 
To  Talbot :  he,  with  dark  and  downward  brow, 
Mus'd  sternly,  till  at  length  arous'd  to  hope 
Of  vengeance,  welcoming  his  warrior  son, 
He  brake  a  *  sullen  smile. 

f*  Son  of  my  age ! 
"  Welcome  young  Talbot  to  thy  first  of  fields. 
"  Thy  father  bids  thee  welcome,  tho'  disgraced, 
u  Baffied,  and  flying  from  a  woman's  arm  ! 


*  M  She  sternly  shook  her  dewy  locks,   and  brake 
4<  A  melancholy  smile." 


Quartet. 


X.     175 

"*  Yes,  by  my  former  glories,  from  a  Woman  ! 

"  The  scourge  of  France  !  the  conqueror  of  Men  ! 

"  Flying  before  a  Woman  !  Son  of  Talbot, 

€t  Had  the  winds  wafted  thee  a  few  days  sooner, 

u  Thou  hadst  seen  me  high  in  honour,  and  thy  name 

(<  Alone  had  scattered  armies  5  yet  my  child, 

*'  I  bid  thee  welcome  1  rest  we  here  our  flight, 

*'  And  lift  again  the  sword." 

So  spake  the  chief  5 
And  well  he  counseled  :  for  not  yet  the  sun 
Had  reach' d  meridian  height,  when,   o'er  the  plain 
Of  Pat  ay  they  beheld  the  troops  of  France 
Speed  in  pursuit.     Soon  as  the  troops  of  France 
Beheld  the  dark  battalions  of  the  foe    . 
Shadowing  the  distant  plain,  a  general  shout 
Burst  from  the  expectant  host,  and  on  they  prest, 
Elate  of  heart  and  eager  for  the  fight, 
With  clamours  ominous  of  victory. 
Thus  urging  on,  one  from  the  adverse  host 
Advanced  to  meet  them  :  they  his  garb  of  peace 
vol.  11,  1 


X.     174 

Knew,  and  they  stayed  them  as  the  Herald  spake 
His  bidding  to  the  Chieftains.     u  Sirs  V*    he  cried 
"  I  bear  defiance  to  you  from  the  Earl 
"  William  of  Suffolk.     Here  on  this  fit  plain, 
"  He  wills  to  give  you  battle,  power  to  power, 
"  So  please  you,  on  the  morrow." 

"  On  the  morrow 
ie  We  will  join  battle  then/'  replied  Dunois, 
"  And  God  befriend  the  right  J"  then  *  on  the  Herald 


*  When  the  armies  of  England  and  France  lay  in  the  plain 
between  Vironfosse  and  Flemenguere,  1339,  Edward  sent  to 
demand  a  day  of  battle  of  the  French  King,  "  An  herald  of 
the  Duke  of  Gueldres,  being  well  skilled  in  the  French 
tongue,  was  sent  on  this  errand :  he  rode  forth  till  he  came 
to  the  French  host,  where  being  admitted  before  the  King 
and  his  Council,  he  spake  aloud  these  words,  "  Sir,  the  King 
of  England  is  here  hard  by  in  the  fields,  and  desires  to  fight 
you  power  against  power  ;  and  if  you  please  to  appoint  him 
a  day  he  will  not  fail  to  meet  you  upon  the  word  of  a 
King."    This  message  being  thus  delivered,  King  Philip  yielded 


X.     175 

A  robe  rich-furred  and  broidered  he  bestowed, 
A  costly  guerdon.     Thro'  the  army  spread 
The  unwelcome  tidings  of  delay  :  possessed 
With  agitating  hopes  they  felt  the  hours 
Pass  heavily  5  but  soon  the  night  wained  on, 
And  the  loud  trumpets  blare  from  broken  sleep 
Roused  them  j  a  second  time  the  thrilling  blast 
Bade  them  be  armed,  and  at  the  third  *  deep  sound 
They  ranged  them  in  their  ranks.    From  man  to  man 
With  pious  haste  hurried  the  Confessor 


either  to  give  or  take  battle  two  days  after,  and  in  token  of  his 
acceptance  of  the  news,  richly  rewarded  the  herald  with 
furred  gowns,  and  other  gifts  bestowed  on  him,  as  well  by 
himself  as  others,  the  Princes  and  Lords  of  his  host,  and  so 
dismissed  him  again. 

Barnes, 

*  Every  man  was  warned  to  rise  from  sleep  at  the  first 
sound  of  the  trumpet ;  at  the  second  to  arm  without  delay, 
and  at  the  third  to  take  horse  in  his  due  place  under  the 
-colours. 

Barnes* 
I  2 


X.     176 

To  thrive  *  them,   lest  with  unprepared  souls 
They  to  their  death  might  go.     Dunois  meantime 


*  Religious  ceremonies  seem  to  have  preceded  all  settled 
engagements  at  this  period.  On  the  night  before  the  battle  of 
Crecy  "  King  Edward  made  a  supper  in  his  royal  pavilion 
for  all  his  chief  Barons,  Lords  and  Captains  :  at  which  he 
appeared  wonderful  chearful  and  pleasant,  to  the  great  encou- 
ragement of  his  people.  But  when  they  were  all  dismissed 
to  their  several  quarters,  the  King  himself  retired  into  his 
private  oratory,  and  came  before  the  altar,  and  there  pros- 
trated himself  to  Almighty  God  and  devoutly  prayed,  "  that 
of  his  infinite  goodness  he  would  vouchsafe  to  look  down  on 
the  justice  of  his  cause,  and  remember  his  unfeigned  endea- 
vours for  a  reconcilement,  ahho'  they  had  all  been  rendered 
frustrate  by  his  enemies :  that  if  he  should  be  brought  to  a 
battle  the  next  day,  it  would  please  him  of  his  great  mercy 
to  grant  him  the  victory,  as  his  trust  was  only  in  him,  and 
in  the  right  which  he  had  given  him."  Being  thus  armed 
with  faith,  about  midnight  he  laid  himself  upon  a  pallet  or 
mattress  to  take  a  little  repose  ;  but  he  arose  again  betimes  and 
heard  mass,  with  his  son  the  young  prince,  and  received  ab- 
solution, and  the  body  and  blood  of  his  redeemer,  as  did  the 
Prince  also,  and   most   of  the  Lords  and  others  who  were  so 

disposed. 

Barnes. 

Thus  also  before  the  battle  of  Agincourt  u  after  prayers  an 


X.     177 

Rode  thro*  the  host  5  the  shield  of  *  dignf ty 
Before  him  borne,,  and  in  his  hand  he  held 
The  white  wand  of  command.     The  open  helm 
Disclosed  that  eye  that  tempered  the  strong  lines- 
Of  steady  valour,  to  obedient  awe 
Winning  the  will's  assent.     To  some  he  spake 
Of  late-earned  glory  ;  others,  new  to  war, 
He  bade  bethink  them  of  the  feats  atchieved 
When  Talbot,  recreant  to  his  former  fame, 
Fled  from  beleager'd  Orleans.     Was  there  one 
Whom  he  had  known  in  battle  ?  by  the  hand 
Him  did  he  take  and  bid  him  on  that  day 
Summon  his  wonted  courage,  and  once  more 
Support  his  chief  and  comrade.     Happy  he 


supplications  of  the  King,  his  priests  and  people  done  with 
great  devotion,  the  King  of  England  in  the  morning  very 
early  set  forth  his  hosts  in  array." 

Sto'we, 

*  The  Roundel.     A  shield  too  weak  for  service  which  was 
borne  before  the  General  of  an  army. 

13 


Xt      178 

Who  caught  his  glance  or  from  the  Chieftain's  lips 
Heard  his  own  name !  joy  more  inspiriting 
Fills  not  the  Persian's  soul,  when  sure  he  deems 
That  Mithra  hears  propitiously  his  prayer, 
And  o'er  the  scattered  cloud  of  morning  pours 
A  brighter  ray  responsive. 

Then  the  host 
Partook  due  food,  this  their  last  meal  belike 
Receiving  with  such  thoughtful  doubts,  as  make 
The  soul,  impatient  of  uncertainty, 
Rush  eager  to  the  event;  prepared  thus 
Upon  the  grass  the  soldiers  laid  themselves, 
Each  in  his  station,  waiting  there  the  sound 
Of  onset,  that  in  undiminished  strength 
Strong,  they  might  meet  the  *  battle  :  silent  some 


*  The  conduct  of  the  English  on  the  morning  of  the  battle 
of  Crecy  is  followed  in  the  text.  "All  things  being  thus 
ordered,  every  Lord  and  Captain  under  his  own  banner  and 
pennon,  and  the  ranks  duly  settled,  the  valourous  young  Kin» 


X.     179 

Pondering  the  chances  of  the  coming  day, 
Some  whiling  with  a  careless  gaiety 
The  fearful  pause  of  action.    Thus  the  French 
In  such  array  and  high  in  confident  hope 


mounted  on  a  lusty  white  hobby,  and  with  a  white  wand  in 
his  hand,  rode  between  his  two  Marshalls  from  rank  to  rank, 
and  from  one  Battalia  unto  another,  exhorting  and  encou- 
raging every  man  that  day  to  defend  and  maintain  his  right 
and  honour :  and  this  he  did  with  so  chearful  a  countenance, 
and  with  fuch  sweet  and  obliging  words,  that  even  the  most 
faint-hearted  of  the  army  were  sufficiently  assured  thereby. 
By  that  time  the  English  were  thus  prepared,  it  was  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  then  the  King  commanded  them 
all  to  take  their  refreshment  of  meat  and  drink,  which  being 
done,  with  small  disturbance  they  all  repaired  to  their  colours 
again,  and  then  laid  themselves  in  their  order  upon  the  dry 
and  warm  grass,  with  their  bows  and  helmets  by  their  side, 
to   be  more  fresh   and  vigorous  upon  the  approach   of  the 

enemy.,, 

Joshua  Barnes. 

The  English  before  the  battle  of  Azincour  "  fell  prostrate 
to  the  ground,  and  committed  themselves  to  God,  every  of 
them  tooke  in  his  mouth  a  little  piece  of  earth,  in  remem- 
brance that  they  were  mortall  and  made  of  earth,  as  also  in 
remembrance  of  the  holy  communion,'' 

Stowe* 

I  4 


X.     180 

Await  the  signal  3  whilst  with  other  thoughts,. 
And  ominous  awe,  once  more  the  invading  host 
Prepare  them  in  the  field  of  fight  to  meet 
The  Maid  of  God.     Collected  in  himself 
Appeared  the  might  of  Talbot.     Thro*  the  ranks 
He  stalks,  reminds  them  of  their  former  fame, 
Their  native  land,  their  homes,  the  friends  they  loveff, 
All  the  rewards  of  this  day's  victory. 
But  awe  had  filled  the  English,  and  they  struck 
Faintly  their  shields  5  for  they  who  had  beheld 
The  hallowed  banner  with  celestial  light 
Irradiate,  and  the  Missioned  Maiden's  deeds, 
Felt  their  hearts  sink  within  them,  at  the  thought 
Of  her  near  vengeance  ;  and  the  tale  they  told 
Roused  such  a  tumult  in  the  new-come  troops, 
As  fitted  them  for  fear.     The  aged  Chief 
Beheld  their  drooping  valour :  his  stern  brow, 
Wrinkled  with  thought,  bewray'd  his  inward  doubts : 
Still  he  was  firm,  tho'  all  might  fly,  resolved 
That  Talbot  should  retrieve  his  old  renown. 


X.      181 

And  period  Life  with  Glory.     Yet  some  hope- 
Inspired  the  Veteran,  as  across  the  plain 
Casting  his  eye,  he  marked  the  embattled  strength 
Of  thousands ;   Archers  of  unequalled  skill, 
Brigans,  and  Pikemen,  from  whose  lifted  points 
A  fearful  radiance  flashed,  and  young  Esquires, 
And  high-born  Warriors,  bright  in  blazoned  arms. 
Nor  few,  nor  fameless  were  the  English  Chiefs  : 
In  many  a  field  victorious,  he  was  there, 
The  gartered  FastolrTe  5  Hungerford,.  and  Scales, 
Men  who  had  seen  the  hostile  squadrons  fly 
Before  the  arms  of  England.     Suffolk  there, 
The  haughty  Chieftain  towered  y  blest  had  he  fallen 
Ere  yet  a  Courtly  Minion  he  was  marked 
By  public  hatred>  and  the  murderer's  name  ! 
There  too  the  Son  of  Talbot,   young  in  arms,. 
Moved  eager;  he,  at  many  a  tournament, 
With  matchless  force,  had  pointed  his  strong  lance, 
O'er  all  opponents,  victor  :  confident 
In  strength,  and  jealous  of  his  future  fame, 
15 


X.      182 

His  heart  beat  high  for  battle.     Such  array 
Of  marshalled  numbers  fought  not  on  the  field 
Of  Crecy,  nor  at  Poictiers ;  nor  such  force 
Led  Henry  to  the  fight  of  Agincourt 
When  thousands  fell  before  him. 

Onward  move 
The  host  of  France.     It  was  a  goodly  sight 
To  see  the  embattled  pomp,  as  with  the  step 
Of  stateliness  the  barbed  steeds  came  on, 
To  see  the  pennons  *  rolling  their  long  waves 
Before  the  gale,  and  banners  *  broad  and  bright 


*  The  Pennon  was  long,  ending  in  two  points,  the  Banner 
square.  "  Un  Seigneur  n'etoit  Banneret  et  ne  pouvoit  porter 
la  banniere  quarree,  que  lors  qu'il  pouvoit  entretenir  a  ses  de- 
pens  un  certain  nombre  de  Chevaliers  et  d'Ecuyers,  avec  lcur 
suite  a  la  guerre:  jusques-la  son  etendard  avoit  deux  queues 
ou  fanons,  et,  quand  il  devenoit  plus  puissant,  son  souverain 
coupoit  lui-meme  les  fanons  de  son  etendard,  pour  ie  rendre 
quarre. 

Comte  de  Trepan, 

An  incident  before  the   battle  of  Nagera   exemplifies  this. 


X.      183 

Tossing  their  blazonry,  and  high-plumed  chiefs 


"  As  the  two  armies  approached  near  together,  the  Prince 
went  over  a  little  hill,  in  the  descending  whereof  he  saw 
plainly  his  enemies  marching  toward  him:  wherefore  when 
the  whole  army  was  come  over  this  mountain,  he  command- 
ed that  there  they  should  make  an  halt,  and  so  fit  themselves 
for  fi^ht.  At  that  instant  the  Lord  John  Chandos  brought 
his  ensign  folded  up,  and  offered  it  to  the  Prince,  saying, 
"  Sir,  here  is  my  Guidon  ;  I  request  your  Highness  to  display- 
it  abroad,  and  to  give  me  leave  to  raise  it  this  day  as  my  ban- 
ner ;  for  I  thank  God  and  your  Highness,  I  have  lands  and 
possessions  sufficient  to  maintain  it  withall."  Then  the  Prince 
took  the  Pennon,  and  having  cut  off  the  tail,  made  it  a 
square  banner,  and  this  done,  both  he  and  King  Don  Pedro 
for  the  greater  honour,  holding  it  between  their  hands  dis- 
played it  abroad,  it  being  Or,  a  sharp  pile  Gules  :  and  then 
the  Prince  delivered  it  unto  the  Lord  Chandos  again,  saying, 
"  Sir  John,  behold  here  is  your  banner.  God  send  you  much 
joy  and  honour  with  it."  And  thus  being  made  a  Knight 
Banneret,  the  Lord  Chandos  returned  to  the  head  of  his  men, 
and  said  "  here  Gentlemen,  behold  my  banner  and  yours. 
Take  and  keep  it,  to  your  honour  and  mine."  And  so  they 
took  it  with  a  shout,  and  said  by  the  grace  of  God  and  St. 
George  they  would  defend  it  to  the  best  of  their  pjwers.  But 
the  banner  remained  in  the  hands  of  a  gallant  English  Esquire 
named  William  Allestry,  who  bore  it  all  that  day,  and  ac- 
quitted himself  in  the  service  right  honourably." 

Barnes* 


X.      184 

Vidames*  and  Seneschalls  and  Chastellains, 
Gay  with  their  bucklers  gorgeous  heraldry, 
And  silken  f  sur coats  to  the  mid- day  sua 
Glittering. 


*  This  title  frequently  occurs  in  the  French  Chronicles,, 
it  was  peculiar  to  France,  u  the  Vidame  or  Vicedominus 
being  to  the  Bishop  in  his  temporals  as  the  Vicecomes  or 
Vicount  anciently  to  the  Earle,  in  his  judicials." 

Peter  Heylyn. 

+  Joshua  Barnes  seems  to  have  been  greatly  impressed 
with  the  splendour  of  such  a  spectacle.  **  It  was  a  glorious 
and  ravishing  sight,  no  doubt,'*  says  he,  u  to  behold  these 
two  armies  standing  thus  regularly  embattled  in  the  field, 
their  banners  and  standards  waving  in  the  wind,  their  proud1 
horses  barbed,  and  Kings,  Lords,  Knights,  and  Esquires 
jichly  armed,  and  all  shining  in  their  surcoats  of  satin  and 
embroidery.,, 

Thus  also  at  Poictiers  "there  you  might  have  beheld  a 
most  beautiful  sight  of  fair  harness,  of  shining  steel,  feathered 
crests  of  glittering  helmets,  and  the  rich  embroidery  of  silken 
surcoats  of  arms,  together  with  golden  standards,  banners 
and  pennons  gloriously  moving  in  the  air." 

And  at  Nagera  "  the  sun  being  now  risen,  it  was  a  ravish- 
ing sight  to  behold  the  armies,  and  the   sun  reflecting  from- 


X.-    185 

And  now  the  Knights  of  France  dismount, 
For  not  to  brutal  strength  they  deemed  it  right 
To  trust  their  fame  and  their  dear  *  country's  weal  $ 
Rather  to  manly  courage,  and  the  glow 


their  bright  steel  and  shining  armour.  For  in  those  days  the 
Cavalry  were  generally  armed  in  mail  or  polished  steel  at  all 
points,  and  besides  that,  the  Nobility  wore  over  their  armour 
rich  surcoats  of  silk  and  satin  embroidery,  whereon  was, 
curiously  sticht  or  beaten,  the  arms  of  their  house,  whether 
in  colour  or  metal." 

*  Nos  Ancestres,  et  notamment  du  temps  de  la  guerre  des 
Anglois,  en  combats  solemnels  et  journees  assignees,  se  met*, 
toient  la  plus-part  du  temp  tous  a  pied  ;  pour  ne  se  fier  a  autre 
chose  qu'  a  leur  force  propre  et  vigueur  de  leur  courage  et  de 
leur  membres,  de  chose  si  chere  que  l-  honneur  et  la  vie. 

Montaigne.  Liv.  i.  c.  43. 

In  the  battle  of  Patay,  Monstrellet  says,  "  les  Francois  moult 
de  pres  mirent  pied  a  terrev  et  descendirent  la  plus  grand 
partie  de  leur  chevaulx. 

In  El  Cavallero  Determinado,  an  allegorical  romance  trans- 
lated from  the  French  of  Oliver  de  la  Marche  by  Kernando  de 
Acuna^   Barcelona,  1565.     This   custom  is   referred   to    by 


X.     ]$6 

Of  honourable  thoughts,  such  as  inspire 

Ennobling  energy.     Unhors'd,  unspurr'd, 

Their  *  javelins  lessen'd  to  a  wieldy  length, 

They  to  the  foe  advanced.     The  Maid  alone, 

Conspicuous  on  a  coal-black  courser,  meets 

The  war.     They  moved  to  battle  with  such  sound 

As  rushes  o'er  the  vaulted  firmament, 

When  from  his  seat,  on  the  utmost  verge  of  Heaven 

That  overhangs  the  Void,  Father  of  Winds  ! 


Understanding,  when  giving  the  Knight  directions  for  his  com- 
bat with  Atropos. 

En  esto  es  mi  parecer 

Que  en  cavallo  no  te  fies ; 
Por  lo  qual  has  de  entender 

Que  de  ninguno  confies 
Tu  lymosna  y  bien  hazer. 

*  Thus  at  Poictiers,  "  the  three  battails  being  all  ready 
ranged  in  the  field,  and  every  Lord  in  his  due  place  under  his 
own  banner,  command  was  given  that  all  men  should  put  off 
their  spurs,  and  cut  their  spears  to  five  foot  length,  as  most 
commodious  for  such  who  had  left  their  horses. 

Barneu 


X,      187 

Hr^svklger  *  starting,  rears  his  giant  bulk, 
And  from  his  eagle  pinions  shakes  the  storm. 


*  Hraesvelgr  vocatur 

Qui  sedet  in  extremitate  cseli, 

Gigas  exuvias  amictus  aqailae  : 

Ex  ejus  alis 

Ferunt  venire  ventum 

Omnes  super  homines. 

VafthrudnUmah 

Where  the  Heavens  remotest  bound 
With  darkness  is  encompassed  round, 
There  Hraesvelger  sits  and  swings 
The  tempest  from  his  eagle  wings. 

The  Edda  of  Samund,  translated  by  A.  S.  Cottle,  I 

At  the  promontory  of  Malea  on  the  ruins  of  the  Temple  of 
Apollo,  there  is  a  Chapel  built  to  the  honour  of  Michael  the 
Archangel.  Here  we  could  not  but  laugh  at  the  foolish  super- 
stition of  the  sailors,  who  say,  when  the  wind  blows  from 
that  place,  that  it  is  occasioned  by  the  violent  motion  of  Michael's 
wings,  because  forsooth,  he  is  painted  with  wings  And  for 
that  reason,  when  they  sail  by  Michael  they  pray  to  him  that 
he  may  hold  his  wings  still. 

Baumgarten. 


X.      185 

High  on  her  stately  steed  the  Martial  Maid 

Rode  foremost  of  the  war  :  her  burnish' d  arms 

Shone  like  the  brook  that  o'er  its  pebbled  course 

Runs  glittering  gayly  to  the  noon -tide  sun. 

Her  foaming  courser^  of  the  guiding  hand 

Impatient,  smote  the  earth,   and  toss'd  his  mane, 

And  rear'd  aloft  with  many  a  fro  ward  bound,. 

Then  answered  to  the  rein  with  such  a  step, 

As,  in  submission,  he  were  proud  to  show 

His  unsubdued  strength.     Slow  on  the  air 

Waved  the  white  plumes  that  shadow' d  o'er  her  helm* 

Even  such,  so  fair,  so  terrible  in  arms 

Pelides  moved  from  Scyros,  where,   conceal'd 

He  lay  obedient  to  his  mother's  fears 

A  seemly  Virgin ;  thus  the  Youth  appear  d 

Terribly  graceful,  when  upon  his  neck 

Deidameia  hung,   and  with  a  look 

That  spake  the  tumult  of  her  troubled  soul, 

Fear,  anguish,  and  upbraiding  tenderness, 

Gazed  on  the  father  of  her  unborn  babe*. 


X.     189 

An  English  Knight,  who  eager  for  renown 
Late  left  his  peaceful  mansion,   mark'd  the  Maid. 
Her  power  miraculous,  and  fearful  deeds 
He  from  the  troops  had  heard  incredulous, 
And  scoff'd  their  easy  fears,  and  vow'd  that  he, 
Proving  the  magic  of  this  dreaded  Girl 
In  equal  battle,  would  dissolve  the  spell, 
Powerless  oppos'd  to  valor.     Forth  he  spurr'd 
Before  the  ranks  j  she  mark'd  the  coming  foe, 
And  nVd  her  lance  in  rest,  and  rash'd  along. 
Midway  they  met  5  full  on  her  buckler  driven, 
Shiver'd  the  English  spear  :  her  better  force 
Drove  the  brave  foeman  senseless  from  his  seat. 
Headlong  he  fell,  nor  ever  to  the  sense 
Of  shame  awoke,  for  rushing  multitudes 
Soon  crush' d  the  helpless  Warrior. 

Then  the  Maid 
Rode  thro'  the  thickest  battle :  fast  they  fell, 
Pierced  by  her  forceful  spear.     Amid  the  troops 
Plunged  her  strong  war-horse,  by  the  noise  of  arms. 


X.     190 

Elate  and  rous'd  to  rage,  he  tramples  o'er, 
Or  with  the  lance  *  protended  from  his  front, 
Thrusts  down  the  thronging  squadrons.   Where  she 
turns 


*  In  a  combat  fought  in  Smithfield   1467,  between  the 

Lord  Scales  and  the  Bastard  of  Burgoygne,  "  the  Lord  Scales' 

horse  had  on  his  chafron  a  long  sharp  pike  of  Steele,  and  as 

the  two   Champions    coaped   together,  the  same  horse  thrust 

his  pike  into  the  nostrills  of  the  Bastard's  horse,  so  that  for 

very  paine,  he  mounted  so  high  that  he  fell  on  the  one  side 

with  his  master. 

Stowe. 

This  weapon  is  mentioned  by  Lope  de  Vega,  and  by  an  old 

Scotch  poet. 

Unicornia  el  cavallo  parecia 

Con  el  fuerte  pyramide  delante, 

Que  en  medio  del  bocal  resplandecia 

Como  si  fuera  punta  de  diamante. 

Jerusalen  Conquistada.  L.  10. 

His  horse  in  fync  sandel  was  trapped  to  the  hele. 

And,  in  his  cheveron  bifome, 

Stode  as  an  unicorne, 

Als  sharp  as  a  thorne, 

An  aulas  of  stele. 

Sir  Gaivatt  and  Sir  Galaron. 


The  foe  tremble  and  die.     Such  ominous  fear 
Seizes  the  Traveller  o'er  the  trackless  sands, 
Who  marks  the  dread  Simoom  across  the  waste, 
Sweep  its  swift  pestilence  :  to  earth  he  falls, 
Nor  dares  gives  utterance  to  the  inward  prayer, 
Deeming  the  Genius  of  the  Desart  breathes 
The  purple  blast  of  Death. 

Such  was  the  sound 
As  when  the  tempest,  mingling  air  and  sea, 
Flies  o'er  the  uptorn  ocean  :  dashing  high 
Their  foamy  heads  amid  the  incumbent  clouds, 
The  madden'd  billows,  with  their  deafening  roar, 
Drown  the  loud  thunder's  peal.     In  every  form 
Of  horror,  Death  was  there.     They  fall,  transnVd 
By  the  random  arrow's  point,  or  fierce-thrust  lance, 
Or  sink,  all  battered  by  the  ponderous  mace  : 
Some  from  their  coursers  thrown,  lie  on  the  earth, 
Unweildy  in  their  arms,  that  weak  to  save, 
Protracted  all  the  agonies  of  Death. 
But  most  the  English  fell,  by  their  own  fears 


IX.      192 

Betrayed,  for  Fear  the  evil  that  it  dreads 
Increases.     Even  the  Chiefs,  who  many  a  day 
Had  met  the  war  and  conquered,  trembled  now, 
Appaird  before  the  Maid  miraculous. 
As  the  blood-nurtured  Monarch  of  the  wood, 
That  o'er  the  wilds  of  Afric,  in  his  strength 
Resistless  ranges,  when  the  mutinous  clouds 
Burst,  and  the  lightnings  thro'  the  midnight  sky- 
Dart  their  red  fires,  lies  fearful  in  his  den, 
And  howls  in  terror  to  the  passing  storm. 

But  Talbot,  fearless  where  the  bravest  fear'd, 

Mowed  down  the  hostile  ranks.    The  Chieftain  stood 

Like  the  strong  oak,  amid  the  tempest's  rage, 

That  stands  unharnVd,  and  while  the  forest  falls 

Uprooted  round,  lifts  his  high  head  aloft, 

And  nods  majestic  to  the  warring  wind. 

He  fought  resolved  to  snatch  the  shield  of  *  Death 


*  Thus  did  Juba  catch  up  the  shield  of  Death  tot  defend 


X.      193 

And  shelter  him  from  Shame.     The  very  herd 
Who  fought  near  Talbot,,  tho'  the  Virgin's  name 
Made  their  cheeks  pale,  and  drove  the  curdling  blood 
Back  to  their  hearts,  caught  from  his  daring  deeds 
New  force,  and  went  like  Eaglets  to  the  prey 
Beneath  their  mother's  wing  :  to  him  they  look'd 
Their  tower  *  of  strength,  and  followed   where   his 

sword 
Made  thro'  the  foe  a  way.     Nor  did  the  son 
Of  Talbot  shame  his  lineage  ;  by  his  sire 
Emulous  he  strove,  like  the  young  Lionet 
When  first  he  bathes  his  murderous  jaws  in  blood. 


himself  from  Ignominy. 

Cleopatra, 

*    fleirsg  yxgvuv  Trvgyoy  sv  of>0aA/AO/07y  ogucriv, 

TYPTAIOX. 

Quarles  has  made   this    expression   somewhat  ludicrous  by 
calling  Sampson 

Great  army  of  men,  the  wonder  of  whose  power 
Gives  thee  the  title  of  a  walking  tower. 


X.     194 

They  fought  intrepid,  tho'  amid  their  ranks 
Fear  and  Confusion  triumph'd  j  for  such  awe 
Possess'd  the  English,  as  the  Etruscans  felt, 
When  self-devoted  to  the  Infernal  Gods 
The  gallant  Decius  stood  before  the  troops, 
Robed  in  the  victim  garb  of  sacrifice, 
And  spake  aloud,  and  call'd  the  Shadowy  Powers 
To  give  to  Rome  the  conquest,  and  receive 
Their  willing  prey ;  then  rush'd  amid  the  foe, 
And  died  upon  the  hecatombs  he  slew. 

But  Hope  inspir'd  the  assailants.   Xaintrailles  there 

Spread  fear  and  death  :  and  Orleans'  valiant  Son 

Fought  as  when  Warwick  fled  before  his  arm. 

O'er  all  preeminent  for  hardiest  deeds 

Was  Conrade.     Where  he  drove  his  battle-axe, 

Weak  was  the  buckler  or  the  helm's  defence, 

Hauberk,  or  plated  mail ,  thro'  all  it  pierced, 

Resistless  as  the  forked  flash  of  Heaven. 

The  death-doom'd  foe,  who  mark'd  the  coming  Chief, 


X.     195 

Felt  such  a  chill  run  thro'  his  shivering  frame, 
As  the  night  traveller  of  the  Pyrenees, 
Lone  and  bewildered  on  his  wintery  way, 
When  from  the  mountains  round  reverberates 
The  hungry  Wolves'  deep  yell :  on  every  side, 
Their  fierce  eyes  gleaming  as  with  meteor  fires, 
The  famish'd  troop  come  round  :  the  affrighted  mule 
Snorts  loud  with  terror,  on  his  shuddering  limbs 
The  big  sweat  starts,  convulsive  pants  his  sides, 
Then  on  he  rushes,  wild  in  desperate  speed. 

Him  dealing  death  an  English  Knight  beheld, 
And  spurr'd  his  steed  to  crush  him  :  Conrade  leap'd 
Lightly  aside,  and  thro'  the  Warrior's  greeves 
Fix'd  a  deep  wound  :  nor  longer  could  the  foe, 
Tortur'd  with  anguish,  guide  his  mettled  horse, 
Or  his  rude  plunge  endure ;  headlong  he  fell, 
And  perish'd.     In  his  castle-hall  was  hung 
On  high  his  father's  shield,  with  many  a  dint 
Graced  on  the  glorious  field  of  Agincourt. 


X.     196 

His  deeds  the  son  had  heard  ;  and  when  a  boy, 
Listening  delighted  to  the  old  man's  tale, 
His  little  hand  would  lift  the  weighty  spear 
In  warlike  pastime  :  he  had  left  behind 
An  infant  offspring,   and  did  fondly  deem 
He  too  in  age  the  exploits  of  his  youth 
Should  tell,  and  in  the  Stripling's  bosom  rouse 
The  fire  of  glory, 

Gonrade  the  next  foe 
Smote  where  the  heaving  membrane  separates 
The  chambers  of  the  trunk.     The  dying  man, 
In  his  Lord's  castle  dwelt,  for  many  a  year, 
A  wTell-beloved  servant :  he  could  sing 
Carols  for  Shrove-tide,  or  for  Candlemas, 
Songs  for  the  Wassel,  and  when  the  Boar's  *  head, 


*  Two  carols  for  this  occasion  are  preserved  in  Mr.  Ritson's 
valuable  collection  of  Ancient  Songs.  The  first  of  these, 
here  alluded  to,  is  as  follows : 

Caput  apri  defero 
Reddens  laudes  domino. 


X.     J  97 

CrownVl  with  gay  garlands,  and  with  Rosemary, 
Smoaked  on  the  Christmas  board  :  he  went  to  war* 
Following  the  Lord  he  loved,  and  saw  him  fall 
Beneath  the  arm  of  Conrade,  and  expir'd, 
Slain  on  his  Master's  body. 

Nor  the  fight 
Was  doubtful  long.     Fierce  on  the  invading  host 
Press  the  French  troops  impetuous,  as  of  old, 
When,  pouring  o'er  his  legion  slaves  on  Greece, 
The  Eastern  Despot  bridged  the  Hellespont, 


The  bore's  heed  in  hand  bring  I 
With  garlands  gay  and  rosemary, 
I  pray  you  all  synge  merely 
Qui  estls  in  convivio. 

x    The  bore's  heed  I  understande 
Is  the  chefe  servyce  in  this  lande, 
Loke  where  ever  it  be  fande 
Servite  cum  cantico. 

Be  gladde  lordes  bothe  more  and  lasse 
For  this  hath  ordeyned  our  stewarde, 
To  chere  you  all  this  christmasse 
The  bore's  heed  with  mustarde. 

VOL.  II.  K 


X.      198 

The  rushing  sea  against  the  mighty  pile 
Roll'd  its  full  weight  of  waters  5  far  away 
The  fearful  Satrap  mark'd  on  Asia's  coasts 
The  floating  fragments,  and  with  ominous  fear 
Trembled  for  the  Great  King. 

Still  Talbot  strove, 
His  foot  firm  planted,  his  uplifted  shield 
Fencing  that  breast  that  never  yet  had  known 
The  throb  of  fear.     But  when  the  warrior's  eye, 
Quick  glancing  round  the  fight,  beheld  the  foe 
Pressing  to  conquest,  and  his  heartless  troops 
Striking  with  feebler  force  in  backward  step, 
Then  o'er  his  cheek  he  felt  the  patriot  flush 
Of  shame,  and  loud  he  lifted  up  his  voice, 
And  cried,  "  fly  cravens  !  leave  your  aged  chief 
"  Here  in  the  front  to  perish  !  his  old  limbs 
f<  Are  not  like  yours  so  supple  *  in  the  flight. 


X.     199 

ce  Go  tell  your  countrymen  how  ye  escaped 
«  When  Talbot  fell  lt$ 

In  vain  the  warrior  spake, 
In  the  uproar  of  the  fight  his  voice  was  lost; 
And  they,  the  nearest,   who  had  heard,  beheld 
The  martial  Maid  approach,  and  every  thought 
Was  overwhelm'd  in  terror.     But  the  son 
Of  Talbot  marked  her  thus  across  the  plain 
Careering  fierce  in  conquest,  and  the  hope 
Of  glory  rose  within  him.     Her  to  meet 
He  spurred  his  horse,  by  one  decisive  deed 
Or  to  retrieve  the  battle,  or  to  fall 
With  honour.     Each  beneath  die  others  blow 
Bowed  down  5  their  lances  shivered  with  the  shock ; 


H<fo  Xtvxov  txpvra,  xxgy,  nto'kiov  Ti  ysmovt 

TVPTAIOS. 
K2 


X.     200 

To  earth  their  coursers  fell :  at  once  they  rose, 
He  from  the  saddle  *  bow  his  falchion  caught 
Rushing  to  closer  combat,  and  she  bared 
The  lightning  -f-  of  her  sword.     In  vain  the  youth 


*  In  the  combat  between  Francus  and  Phouerc,  Ronsard  says 

—  de  la  main  leurs  coutelas  trouverent 
Bien  aiguisez  qui  de  P  arc  on  pendoyent. 

On  this  passage  the  commentator  observes,  "  P  autheur 
arme  ces  deux  chevaliers  a  la  mode  de  nos  gendarmes 
Francois,  la  lance  en  la  main,  la  coutelace  bu  la  mace  a  P 
arcon,  et  P  espee  au  coste. 

Thus  Desmarests  says  of  the  troops  of  Clovis 

A  tous  pend  de  Y  arcon,  a  leur  mode  guerrierre, 
Et  la  hache  tranchante,  et  la  masee  meurtriere. 

And  when  Clovis  on  foot  and  without  a  weapon  hears  the 
shrieks  of  a  woman,  he  sees  his  horse 

Jette  P  ceil  sur  P  argon,  et  void  luire  sa  hache. 
Lope  de  Vega  speaks  of  the  sword  being  carried  in  the  same 
manner,  when  he  describes  Don  Juan  de  Aguila  as 
desatando  del  argon  la  espada. 

-    f  Desnudo  el  rayo  de  la  ardiente  espada. 

Jerusalen  Conqttlstadfa 


X.     201 

Essayed  to  pierce  those  arms  which  even  the  power 
Of  Time  was  weak  to  injure  :  she  the  while 
Thro'  many  a  wound  beheld  her  foeman's  blood 
Ooze  fast.    "  Yet  save  thee  Warrior  !"  cried  the  Maid, 
u  Me  thou  canst  not  destroy  :  be  timely  wise, 
u  And  live !"  He  answered  not,  but  lifting  high 
His  weapon,  drove  with  fierce  and  forceful  arm 
Full  on  the  Virgin's  helm  :  fire  from  her  eyes, 
Flash'd  with  the  stroke  :  one  step  she  back  recoiled, 
Then  in  his  breast  plung'd  deep  the  sword  of  Death. 

Talbot  beheld  his  fall ;  on  the  next  foe, 

With  rage  and  anguish  wild,  the  Warrior  turn'd  5 

His  ill-directed  weapon  to  the  earth 

Drove  down  the  unwounded  Frank  :  he  lifts  the  sword 

And  thro1  his  all-in-vain  imploring  hands 

Cleaves  the  poor  suppliant.     On  that  dreadful  day 

The  sword  of  Talbot,*  clogg'd  with  hostile  gore, 


*  Talbot's  sword,  says  Camden,  was  found  in  the  river  of 
Dordon,  and  sold  by  a  peasant  to  an  armourer  of  Bourdeaux, 
with  this  inscription,, 


X,      202 

Made  good  its  vaunt.     Amid  the  heaps  his  arm 
Had  slain,  the  Chieftain  stood  and  swayed  around 
His  furious  strokes  :  nor  ceased  he  from  the  fight, 
Tho'  now  discomfited  the  English  troops 
Fled  fast,  all  panic-struck  and  spiritless; 
And  mingling  with  the  routed,  Fastolffe  fled, 


Sum  Talboti,  M.  1III.  C.  XLIII. 

Pro  vincere  inimicos  meos. 

But  pardon  the  Latin,  for  it  was  not  his,  but  his  camping 
chaplain. — A  sword  with  bad  Latin  upon  it,  but  good  steel 
within  it,  says  Fuller. 

It  was  probably  not  uncommon  to  bear  a  motto  upon  the 
sword  Lope  de  Vega  describes  that  of  Aguila  as  bearing 
inlaid  in  gold,  a  verse  of  the  psalms.     It  was,  he  says, 

Mas  famosa  que  fue  de  hombre  cenida, 
Para  ocasiones  del  honor  guardada, 

Y  en  ultima  defensa  de  la  vida, 
Y  desde  cuya  guarnicion  dorada 

Hasta  la  punta  la  canal  brunida 
Tenia  escrito  de  David  un  verso. 
Niclado  de  oro  en  el  azero  terso. 

Jerusafen  Conquittada, 


X.     203 

Fastolffe,  all  fierce  *  and  haughty  as  he  was, 
False  to  his  former  fame  ;  for  he  beheld 
The  Maiden  rushing  onward,  and  such  fear 
Ran  thro*  his  frame,  as  thrills  the  African, 
When,  grateful  solace  in  the  sultry  hour, 
He  rises  on  the  buoyant  billow's  breast, 
If  then  his  eye  behold  the  monster  shark 
Gape  eager  to  devour. 


*  In  the  original  letters  published  by  Mr.  Fenn,  Fastolffe 
appears  in  a  very  unfavourable  light.  Henry  Windsor  writes 
thus  of  him,  "  hit  is  not  unknown  that  cruelle  and  vengible 
he  hath  byn  ever,  and  for  the  most  part  with  aute  pite  and 
mercy.  I  can  no  more,  but  vade  et  corripe  turn,  for  truly  he 
cannot  bryng  about  his  matiers  in  this  word  (world) y  for  the 
word  is  not  for  him.  I  suppose  it  wolnot  chaunge  yett  be 
likelenes,  but  i  beseche  you  sir  help  not  to  amend  hym  onely, 
but  every  other  man  yf  ye  kno  any  mo  mysse  disposed.'* 

The  order  of  the  Garter  was  taken  from  Fastolffe  for  his 
conduct  at  Patay.  He  suffered  a  more  material  loss  in  the 
money  he  expended  in  the  service  of  the  state.  In  1455, 
^4083.  15.  7-  were  due  to  him  for  costs  and  charges  during 
his  services  in  France,  "  whereof  the  sayd  Fastolffe  hath  had 
nouther  pavement  nor  assignation.''  So  he  complains. 
K.4 


X.     204 

But  Talbot  now 
A  moment  paused,  for  bending  thitherwards 
He  mark'd  a  warrior,  such  as  well  might  ask 
His  utmost  force.     Of  strong  and  stately  port 
The  onward  foeman  moved,  and  bore  on  high 
A  battle-axe,  in  many  a  field  of  blood 
Known  by  the  English  Chieftain.     Over  heaps 
Of  slaughtered,  strode  the  Frank,  and  bade  the  troops 
Hetire  from  the  bold  Earl :   then  Conrade  spake. 
"  Vain  is  thy  valour  Talbot !  look  around, 
te  See  where  thy  squadrons  fly  !  but  thou  shalt  loss 
"  No  glory,  by  their  cowardice  subdued, 
if  Performing  well  thyself  the  soldier's  part." 

"'  And  let  them  fly  !"  the  indignant  Earl  exclaimed, 
9t  And  let  them  fly  !  but  bear  thou  witness,  Chief ! 
#f  That  guiltless  of  this  day's  disgrace,  I  fall. 
•*  But  Frenchman  !  Talbot  will  not  tamely  fall, 
«  Nor  unrevenged." 


X.     205 

"  So  saying,  for  the  war 
He  stood  prepared  :  nor  now  with  heedless  rage 
The  Champions  fought,  for  either  knew  full  well 
His  foeman's  prowess  :  now  they  aim  the  blow 
Insidious,  with  quick  change  then  drive  the  steel 
Fierce  on  the  side  exposed.     The  unfaithful  arms 
Yield  to  the  strong-driven  edge;  the  blood  streams 

down 
Their  battered  mails.  With  swift  eye  Conrade  marked 
The  lifted  buckler,  and  beneath  impell'd 
His  battle-axe  ;  that  instant  on  his  helm 
The  sword  of  Talbot  fell,  and  with  the  blow 
Shivered.     "  Yet  yield  thee  Englishman  !''  exclaimed 
The  generous  Frank,  "  vain  is  this  bloody  strife  : 
<e  Me  shouldst  thou  conquer,  little  would  my  death 
"  Avail  thee,  weak  and  wounded  !" 

<e  Long  enough 
«  Talbot  has  lived/'  replied  the  sullen  Chief  : 
"  His  hour  is  come  ;  yet  shalt  thou  not  survive 

"  To  glory  in  his  fall !"    So,  as  he  spake, 
K  5 


X.     <206 

He  lifted  from  the  ground  a  massy  spear, 
And  rushed  again  to  battle. 

Now  more  fierce 
The  conflict  raged,  for  careless  of  himself, 
And  desperste,  Talbot  fought.     Collected  still 
Was  Conrade.     Wheresoe'er  his  foeman  aimed 
His  barbed  javelin,  there  he  swung  around 
The  guardian  shield  :  the  long  and  vain  assault 
Exhausted  Talbot  now  ;  foredone  with  toil 
He  bare  his  buckler  low  for  weariness, 
His  buckler  now  splintered  *  with  many  a  stroke 
Fell  piecemeal ;  from  his  riven  arms  the  blood 
Streamed  fast :  and  now  the  Frenchman's  battle-axe 


*  L'ecu  des  Chevaliers  etait  ordinairement  un  bouclier  de 
forme  a  peu  pres  triangulaire,  large  par  le  haut  pour  couvrir 
le  corps,  et  se  terminant  en  pointe  par  le  bas,  afin  d*  etre 
irioins  lourd.  On  les  faisait  de  bois  qu'on  recouvrait  avec  du 
cuir  bouilli,  avec  des  nerfs  ou  autres  matieres  dures,  mais 
jamais  de  fer  ou  d'  acier.  Seulement  il  etait  permis,  pour  les 
cmpecher  d'  etre  coupes  trop  aisement  par  les  epees,  d'y 
jnettre  un  cercle  d'  or,  d'  argent,  ou  de  fcr,  qui  les  entourat. 

Le  Grand. 


X.     207 

Drove  unresisted  thro'  the  shieldless  mail. 
Backward  the  Frank  recoiled.     "  Urge  not  to  death 
r*  This  fruitless  contest/'  he  exclaimed  -,  fc  oh  Chief! 
t(  Are  there  not  those  in  England  who  would  feel 
"  Keen  anguish  at  thy  loss  ?  a  wife  perchance 
u  Who  trembles  for  thy  safety,  or  a  child 
i{  Needing  a  Father's  care  !" 

Then  Talbot's  heart 
Smote  him.    "Warrior!    he  cried,  "if  thou  dost 

u  think 
"  That  life  is  worth  preserving,  hie  thee  hence, 
rr  And  save  thyself:  I  loath  this  useless  talk." 

So  saying,  he  addressed  him  to  the  fight, 
Impatient  of  existence  :  from  their  arms 
Flashed  fire,  and  quick  they  panted  ;  but  not  long 
Endured  the  deadly  combat.     With  full  force 
Down  thro'  his  shoulder  even  to  the  chest, 
Conrade  impelled  the  ponderous  battle-axe  ; 
And  at  that  instant  underneath  his  shield 
k6 


X.     208 

Received  the  hostile  spear.     Prone  fell  the  Earl, 
Even  in  his  death  rejoicing  that  no  foe 
Should  live  to  boast  his  fall. 

Then  with  faint  hand 
Conrade  unlaced  his  helm,  and  from  his  brow 
Wiping  the  cold  dews,  ominous  of  death, 
He  laid  him  on  the  earth,  thence  to  remove, 
While  the  long  lance  hung  heavy  in  his  side, 
Powerless.     As  thus  beside  his  lifeless  foe 
He  lay,  the  Herald  of  the  English  Earl 
With  faltering  step  drew  near,  and  when  he  saw 
His  master's  arms,  "  Alas  !  and  is  it  you, 
4<  My  Lord  ?"  he  cried.    f '  God  pardon  you  your  sins ! 
w  I  have  been  forty  years  your  officer, 
"  And  time  it  is  I  should  surrender  now 
"  The  ensigns  of  my  office  !"     So  he  said, 
And  paying  thus  his  rite  of  sepulture, 
Threw  o'er  the  slaughtered  chief  his  blazoned  *  coat. 


'•  This  fact  is  mentioned  in  Andrews's  History  of  England. 


X.     209 

Then  Conrade  thus  bespake  him  :  "  Englishman, 
"  Do  for  a  dying  soldier  one  kind  act  ! 
u  Seek  for  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  bid  her  haste 
"  Hither,  and  thou  shalt  gain  what  recompence 
"  It  pleases  thee  to  ask.3* 

The  herald  soon, 
Meeting  the  missioned  Virgin,  told  his  tale. 
Trembling  she  hastened  on,  and  when  she  knew 
The  death-pale  face  of  Conrade,  scarce  could  JOAN 
Lift  up  the  expiring  warrior's  heavy  hand, 
And  press  it  to  her  heart. 

"  I  sent  for  thee, 
"  My  friend  !"  with  interrupted  voice  he  cried, 


I  have  merely  versified  the  original  expressions.  tc  The  herald 
of  Talbot  sought  out  his  body  among  the  slain.  «'  Alas  my 
Lord  !  and  is  it  you !  I  pray  God  pardon  you  all  your  misdoings. 
I  have  been  your  officer  of  arms  forty  years  and  more  :  it  is 
time  that  I  should  surrender  to  you  the  ensigns  of  my  office. " 
Thus  saying,  with  the  tears  gushing  from  his  eyes,  he  threw 
his  coat  of  arms  over  the  corpse,  thus  performing  one  of  the 
ancient  rites  of  sepulture." 


X.     210 

<c  That  I  might  comfort  this  my  dying  hour 

u  With  one  good  deed.     A  fair  domain  is  mine, 

u  Let  Francis  and  his  Isabel  possess 

u  That,  mine  inheritance."    He  paused  awhile, 

Struggling  for  utterance ;   then  with  breathless  speed, 

And  pale  as  him  he  mourned  for,  Francis  came, 

And  hung  in  silence  o'er  the  blameless  man, 

Even  with  a  brother's  sorrow :  he  pursued, 

"  This  JOAN  will  be  thy  care.     I  have  at  home 

<(  An  aged  mother — Francis,  do  thou  soothe 

"  Her  childless  age.     Nay,  weep  not  for  me  thus : 

"  Sweet  to  the  wretched  is  the  tomb's  repose  !" 

So  saying  Conrade  drew  the  javelin  forth. 
And  died  without  a  groan. 

By  this  the  Scouts, 
Forerunning  the  King's  march,  upon  the  plain 
Of  Patay  had  arrived,  of  late  so  gay 
With  marshalled  thousands  in  their  radiant  arms, 
And  streamers  glittering  in  the  noon-tide  sun, 


X.     211 

And  blazon'd  shields,  and  gay  accoutrements, 
The  pageantry  of  murder  i  now  defiled 
With  mingled  dust  and  blood,  and  broken  arms, 
And  mangled  bodies.     Soon  the  Monarch  joins 
His  victor  army.     Round  the  royal  flag, 
Uprear'd  in  conquest  now,  the  Chieftains  flock 
Proffering  their  eager  service.     To  his  arms, 
Or  wisely  fearful,  or  by  speedy  force 
Compelled,  the  embattled  towns  submit  and  own 
Their  rightful  King.     Baugenci  strives  in  vain  : 
Yenville  and  Mehun  yield  )  from  Sully's  wall 
Hurl'd  is  the  bannered  Lion  :  on  they  pass, 
Auxerre,  and  Troyes,  and  Chalons,  ope  their  gates, 
And  by  the  Mission'd  Maiden's  rumoured  deeds 
Inspirited,  the  Citizens  of  Rheims 
Feel  their  own  strength  j  against  the  English  troops 
With  patriot  valour,  irresistible, 
They  rise,  they  conquer,  and  to  their  liege  Lord 
Present  the  city  keys. 

The  morn  was  fair 


X.     212 

When  Rheims  re-echoed  to  the  busy  hum 

Of  multitudes,  for  high  solemnity 

Assembled.     To  the  holy  fabric  moves 

The  long  procession,  thro'  the  streets  bestrewn 

With  flowers  and  laurel  boughs.    The  Courtier  throng 

Were  there,  and  they  in  Orleans,  who  endured 

The  siege  right  bravely  .;  Gaucour,  and  La  Hire, 

The  gallant  Xaintrailles,  Boussac,  and  Chabannes, 

La  Fayette,  name  that  Freedom  still  shall  love, 

Alencon,  and  the  bravest  of  the  brave, 

The  Bastard  Orleans,  now  in  hope  elate, 

Soon  to  release  from  hard  captivity 

A  dear  beloved  brother :  gallant  men, 

And  worthy  of  eternal  memory, 

For  they,  in  the  most  perilous  times  of  France 

Despaired  not  of  their  country.     By  the  King 

The  Delegated  Damsel  passed  along 

Clad  in  her  battered  arms.     She  bore  on  high 

Her  hallowed  banner  to  the  sacred  pile, 

And  fixed  it  on  the  altar,  whilst  her  hand 


X.     213 

Poured  on  the  Monarch's  head  the  mystic  *  oil, 

Wafted  of  yore  by  milk-white  Dove  from  Heaven, 

(So  legends  say)  to  Clovis  when  he  stood 

At  Rheims  for  baptism ;  dubious  since  that  day, 

When  Tolbiac  plain  reek'd  with  his  warrior's  blood, 

And  fierce  upon  their  flight  the  Almanni  prest, 

And  reared  the  shout  of  triumph  j  in  that  hour 

Clovis  invoked  aloud  the  Christian  God, 

And  conquered  :  waked  to  wonder  thus,  the  Chief 

Became  Love's  convert,  and  Clotilda  led 


•  cc  The  Frenchmen  wonderfully  reverence  this  oyle ;  and 
at  the  coronation  of  their  Kings,  fetch  it  from  the  church 
where  it  is  kept,  with  great  solemnity.  For  it  is  brought 
(saith  Sleiden  in  his  Commentaries)  by  the  Prior  sitting  on  a 
white  ambling  Palfrey,  and  attended  by  his  Monkes;  the 
Archbishop  of  the  town  (Rheims)  and  such  Bishops  as  are 
present,  going  to  the  church  door  to  meet  it,  and  leaving  for 
it  with  the  Prior  some  gage,  and  the  King,  when  it  is  by  the 
Archbishop  brought  to  the  altar,  bowing  himself  before  it  with 
great  reverence." 

Peter  Heylyn. 


X.      214 

Her  husband  to  the  font. 

The  Missioned  Maid 
Then  placed  on  Charles's  brow  the  Crown  of  France, 
And  back  retiring,  gazed  upon  the  King 
One  moment,  quickly  scanning  all  the  past, 
Till  in  a  tumult  of  wild  wonderment 
She  wept  aloud.     The  assembled  multitude 
In  awful  stillness  witnessed :  then  at  once, 
As  with  a  tempest-rushing  noise  of  winds, 
Lifted  their  mingled  clamours.     Now  the  Maid 
Stood  as  prepared  to  speak,  and  waved  her  hand, 
And  instant  silence  followed. 

u  King  of  France!" 
She  cried,  "  At  Chinon,  when  my  gifted  eye 
ff  Knew  thee  disguised,  what  inwardly  the  Spirit 
r<  Prompted,  I  spake,  armed  with  the  sword  of  God 
€t  To  drive  from  Orleans  far  the  English  Wolves, 
(<  And  crown  thee  in  the  rescued  walls  of  Rheims. 
€<  All  is  accomplished.     I  have  here  this  day 
<*  Fulfilled  my  mission,  and  anointed  thee 


X. 


u  Chief  Servant  of  the  People.     Of  this  charge, 

**  Or  well  performed  or  wickedly,  high  Heaven 

"  Shall  take  account.     If  that  thine  heart  be  good, 

$(  I  know  no  limit  to  the  happiness 

"  Thou  mayest  create.     I  do  beseech  thee  King  F* 

The  Maid  exclaimed,  and  fell  upon  the  ground 

And  clasped  his  knees,  "  I  do  beseech  thee  King  ! 

t€  By  all  the  millions  that  depend  on  thee, 

"  For  weal  or  woe, . .  consider  what  thou  art, 

"  And  know  thy  duty  !  if  thou  dost  oppress 

"  Thy  people,  if  to  aggrandize  thyself 

€t  Thou  tear'st  them  from  their  homes,  and  sendest 

*:  them 
"  To  slaughter,  prodigal  of  misery  ! 
"  If  when  the  Widow  and  the  Orphan  groan 
"  In  want  and  wretchedness,  thou  turnest  thee 
€<  To  hear  the  music  of  the  flatterer's  tongue  5 
"  If  when  thou  hear'st  of  thousands  massacred, 
"  Thou  sayest,  "  I  am  a  King !  and  fit  it  is 
"  That  these  should  perish  for  me."     If  thy  realm 


X.     216 

«  Should,  thro*  the  counsels  of  thy  government, 

u  Be  filled  with  woe,  and  in  thy  streets  be  heard 

"  The  voice  of  mourning  and  the  feeble  cry 

"  Of  asking  hunger  j  if  at  such  a  time 

"  Thou  dost  behold  thy  plenty-covered  board, 

"  And  shroud  thee  in  thy  robes  of  Royalty, 

*'  And  say  that  all  is  well,  . .  Oh  gracious  God  ! 

ft  Be  merciful  to  such  a  monstrous  man, 

"  When  the  Spirits  of  the  murdered  innocent 

"  Cry  at  thy  throne  for  justice  ! 

"  King  of  France ! 
«  Protect  the  lowly,  feed  the  hungry  ones, 
"  And  be  the  Orphan's  father  !  thus  shalt  thou 
•'  Become  the  Representative  of  Heaven, 
"  And  Gratitude  and  Love  establish  thus 
"  Thy  reign.  Believe  me,  King  !  that  hireling  guards, 
u  Tho'  fleshed  in  slaughter,  would  be  weak  to  save 
<c  A  tyrant  on  the  blood-cemented  Throne 
"  That  totters  underneath  him." 


X.     217 

Thus  the  Maid 
Redeemed  her  country.     Ever  may  the  All- Just 
Give  to  the  arms  of  Freedom  such  success. 


END. 


3)  10  yfjytt;  3fi 


CJ)e  Mston 

of 

%\)t  jftato  of  ©rieatts* 


Divinity  hath  often times  descended 
Upon  our  slumbers,  mid  the  blessed  troupes 
Have,  in  the  calme  and  quiet  of  the  soule, 
Conversed  with  us. 

Shirley.     The  Grateful  Servant* 


The  Vision  was  originally  printed  as  the  ninth  book  of 
JOAN  of  ARC,  The  plan  and  execution  of  that  Poem 
were  equally  faulty ;  I  have  repeatedly  and  laboriously 
corrected  it,  and  as  many  faults  unavoidably  still  remain, 
request  the  reader  to  recollect  that  it  was  first  written  at 
the  age  of  nineteen>  and  published  at  the  age  of  one  and 
twenty. 

JR.  S. 


VOL.  II. 


THE  VISION 

of 
THE  MAID  OF  ORLEANS. 


Orleans  was  hush'd  in  sleep.     Stretch*  d  on  her  couch 

The  delegated  Maiden  lay.     Soon  she  closed 

Her  heavy  eyelids  \  not  reposing  then, 

For  busy  Phantasy,  in  other  scenes 

Awakened  :  whether  that  superior  powers, 

By  wise  permission,  prompt  the  midnight  dream, 

Instructing  best  the  passive  *  faculty  $ 


*  May  says  of  Serapis, 

Erudit  at  placide  humanam  per  somnia  mentem, 
Nocturnaque  quiete  docet ;  nulloque  laborc 
Hie  tantum  parta  est  pretiosa  scientia,  nullo 

L2 


224 

Or  that  the  soul,  escaped  its  fleshly  clog. 
Flies  free,  and  soars  amid  the  invisible  world, 
And  all  things  are  *  that  seem. 


Excutitur  studio  verum.     Mortalia  corda 

Tunc  Deus  iste  docet,  cum  sunt  minus  apta  doceri, 

Cum  nullum  obsequium  praestant,  meritisque  fatentur 

Nil  sese  debere  suis ;  tunc  recta  scientes 

Cum  nil  scire  valent.     Non  illo  tempore  sensus 

Humanos  forsan  dignatur  numen  inire, 

Cum  propriis  possunt  per  se  discursibus  uti, 

Ne  forte  humana  ratio  divina  coiret. 

Sup  Lucanu 

*  I  have  met  with  a  singular  tale  to  illustrate  this  spiritual 
theory  of  dreams. 

Guntrum,  King  of  the  Franks,  was  liberal  to  the  poor,  and 
he  himself  experienced  the  wonderful  effects  of  divine  libe- 
rality. For  one  day  as  he  was  hunting  in  a  forest  he  was 
separated  from  his  companions  and  arrived  at  a  little  stream 
of  water  with  only  one  comrade  of  tried  and  approved  fidelity. 
Here  he  found  himself  opprest  by  drowsiness,  and  reclining 
his  head  upon  the  servant's  lap  went  to  sleep.  The  servant 
witnessed  a  wonderful  thing,  for  he  saw  a  little  beast  creep 
out  of  the  mouth  of  his  sleeping  master,  and  go  immediately 
to  the  streamlet,  which  it  vainly  attempted  to  cross.    The 


IZ5 


Along  a  moor, 
Barren,  and  wide,  and  drear,  and  desolate, 
She  roam'd,  a  wanderer  thro*  the  cheerless  night. 


servant  drew  his  sword  and  laid  it  across  the  water,  over  which 
the  little  beast  easily  past  and  crept  into  a  hole  of  a  mountain 
on  the  opposite  side ;  from  whence  it  made  its  appearance  again 
in  an  hour,  and  returned  by  the  same  means  into  the  King's 
mouth.  The  King  then  awakened,  and  told  his  companion 
that  he  had  dreamt  that  he  was  arrived  upon  the  bank  of  an 
immense  river,  which  he  had  crossed  by  a  bridge  of  iron,  and 
from  thence  came  to  a  mountain  in  which  a  great  quantity  of 
gold  was  concealed.  When  the  King  had  concluded,  the 
servant  related  what  he  had  beheld,  and  they  both  went  to 
examine  the  mountain,  where  upon  digging  they  discovered 
an  immense  weight  of  gold. 

I  stumbled  upon  this  tale  in  a  book  entitled  Sphinx,  Theo- 
logico-Philosophica,  Author  e  Johanne  Htidfeldio^  Ecclesiastt 
Ebersbachiano.     1-631.. 

The  same  story  is  in  Matthew  of  Westminster ;  it  is  added 
that  Guntrum  applied  the  treasures  thus  found  to  pious  uses. 

For  the  truth  of  this  theory  there  is  the  evidence  of  a  Monkish- 
miracle.  When  Thurcillus  was  about  to  follow  St.  Julian  and 
visit  the  world  of  souls,  his  guide  said  to  him,  cC  let  thy  body, 
test  in  the  bed  for  thy  spirit  only  is  about  to  depart  with  me; 
l3 


22ff 

Far  thro'  the  silence  of  the  unbroken  plain 

The  bittern's  boom  was  heard,  hoarse,  heavy,  deep, 

It  made  accordant  music  to  the  scene. 

Black  clouds,  driven  fast  before  the  stormy  wind, 

Swept  shadowing ;  thro'  their  broken  folds  the  moon 

Struggled  at  times  with  transitory  ray, 

And  made  the  moving  darkness  visible. 

And  now  arrived  beside  a  fenny  lake 

She  stands,  amid  whose  stagnate  waters,  hoarse 

The  long  reeds  rustled  to  the  gale  of  night. 

An  age-worn  bark  receives  the  Maid,  impelPd 

By  powers  unseen  -,  then  did  the  moon  display 


and  lest  the  body  should  appear  dead,  I  will  send  into  it  a 
vital  breath." 

The  body  however  by  a  strange  sympathy  was  affected  like  the 
spirit ;  for  when  the  foul  and  fetid  smoke  that  arose  from  the 
tithes  withheld  on  earth,  had  nearly  suffocated  Thurcillus,  and 
made  him  cough  twice,  those  who  were  near  his  body  said  that 
it  coughed  twice  about  the  same  time. 

Matthew  Parh. 


227 

Where  thro*  the  crazy  vessel's  yawning  side 
The  muddy  wave  oozed  in  :  a  female  guides, 
And  spreads  the  sail  before  the  wind,  that  moan'd 
As  melancholy  mournful  to  her  ear, 
As  ever  by  the  dungeon'd  wretch  was  heard 
Howling  at  evening  round  the  embattled  towers 
Of  that  hell-house*  of  France,  ere  yet  aroused 
The  almighty  people  from  their  tyrant's  hand 
Dash'd  down  the  iron  rod. 

Intent  the  Maid 
Gazed  on  the  pilot's  form,  and  as  she  gazed 
Shiver'd,  for  wan  her  face  was,  and  her  eyes 
Hollow,  and  her  sunk  cheeks  were  furrowed  deep, 
Channell'd  by  tears  5  a  few  grey  locks  hung  down 
Beneath  her  hood :  and  thro'  the  Maiden's  veins 
Chill  crept  the  blood,  for,  as  the  night-breeze  pass'cl, 


*  The  Bastille.  The  expression  is  in  one  of  Fuller's  works,  an 
Author  whose  quaintness  and  ingenuity  have  always  amused, 
and  sometimes  assisted  me. 

u4 


228 

Lifting  her  tatter'd  mantle,  coiPd  around 
She  saw  a  serpent  gnawing  at  her  heart. 

The  plumeless  bat  with  short  shrill  note  flits  by^ 
And  the  night-raven's  scream  came  fitfully, 
Borne  on  the  hollow  blast.     Eager  the  Maid 
Look'd  to  the  shore,  and  now  upon  the  bank 
Leaps,  joyful  to  escape,  yet  trembling  stiU 

In  recollection. 

There,  a  mouldering  pile 

Stretch'd  its  wide  ruins,  o'er  the  plain  below 

Casting  a  gloomy  shade,  save  where  the  moon 

Shone  thro'  its  fretted  windows  :  the  dark  Yew, 

Withering  with  age,  branched  there  its  naked  roots, 

And  there  the  melancholy  Cypress  rear'd 

Its  head ;  the  earth  was  heav'd  with  many  a  mound, 

And  here  and  there  a  half-demolish'd  tomb. 

And  now,  amid  the  ruin's  darkest  shade, 

The  Virgin's  eye  beheld  where  pale  blue  flames 


2£9 

Hose  wavering,  now  just  gleaming  from  the  earthy, 
And  now  in  darkness  drown'd.     An  aged  man 
Sate  near,  seated  on  what  in  long  past  days 
Had  been  some  sculptured  monument,,  now  fallen 
And  half-obscur'd  by  moss,  and  gather'd  heaps 
Of  withered  yew-leaves  and  earth-mouldering  bones ; 
His  eye  was  large  and  rayless,  and  hVd  full 
Upon  the  Maid  -,  the  tomb-fires  on  his  face 
Shed  a  blue  light  -,  his  face  was  of  the  hue 
Of  death  5  his  limbs  were  mantled  in  a  shroud. 

Then  with  a  deep  heart-terrifying  voice,. 
Exclaim'd  the  Spectre,  "  Welcome  to  these  realms,, 
u  These  regions  of  Despair  !  O  thou  whose  steps 
fs  Sorrow  hath  guided,  to  my  sad  abodes 
"  Welcome  to  my  drear  empire,  t©  this  gloom 
u  Eternal,  to  this  everlasting  night, 
"  Where  never  morning  darts  the  enlivening  ray,. 
(<  Where  never  shines  the  sun,  but  all  is  dark,. 
u  Dark  as  the  bosom  of  their  gloomy  King.1' 
l  5 


230 

So  saying  he  arose,,  and  drawing  on, 
Her,  to  the  abbey's  inner  ruin,  led 
Resistless.     Thro'  the  broken  roof  the  moon 
Glimmer'd  a  scatter' d  ray  ;  the  ivy  twined 
Round  the  dismantled  column  5  imaged  forms 
Of  Saints  and  warlike  Chiefs,  moss-canker'd  now 
And  mutilate,  lay  strewn  upon  the  ground, 
With  crumbled  fragments,  crucifixes  fallen, 
And  rusted  trophies.     Meantime  overhead 
Roar'd  the  loud  blast,  and  from  the  tower  the  owl 
Scream'd  as  the  tempest  shook  her  secret  nest. 
He,  silent,  led  her  on,  and  often  paus'd, 
And  pointed,  that  her  eye  might  contemplate 
At  leisure  the  drear  scene. 

He  dragged  her  on 
Thro'  a  low  iron  door,  down  broken  stairs  5 
Then  a  cold  horror  thro'  the  Maiden's  frame 
Crept,  for  she  stood  amid  a  vault,  and  saw, 
By  the  sepulchral  lamp's  dim  glaring  light, 
The  fragments  of  the  dead. 


£31 

"  Look  here  !"  he  cried, 

cc  Damsel,  look  here  !  survey  this  house  of  Death  \ 

<:  O  soon  to  tenant  it !  soon  to  increase 

ee  These  trophies  of  mortality  !  for  hence 

."  Is  no  return.     Gaze  here  !  behold  this  skull, 

Cf  These  eyeless  sockets,  and  these  unflesh'd  jaws, 

u  That  with  their  ghastly  grinning,  seem  to  mock 

u  Thy  perishable  charms  ;  for  thus  thy  cheek 

"  Must  moulder.      Child  of  Grief !   shrinks  not  thy 

<c  soul, 

"  Viewing  these  horrors  ?  trembles  not  thy  heart 

"  At  the  dread  thought,  that  here  its  life's-blood  soo» 

"  Shall  stagnate,  and  the  finely-fibred  frame, 

u  Now  warm  in  life  and  feeling,  mingle  soon 

c<  With  the  cold  clod  ?  thing  horrible  to,  think,.  .. 

"  Yet  in  thought  only,  for  reality 

cc  Is  none  of  suffering  here  ;  here  all  is peace;. 

et  No  nerve  will  throb  to  anguish  in  the  grave. 

"  Dreadful  it  is  to  think  of  losing  life,. 

"  Hut  having  lost,  knowledge  of  loss  is  not,.. 
l6 


232 

"  Therefore  no  ill.     Haste,  Maiden,  to  repose  j 
"  Probe  deep  the  seat  of  life." 

So  spake  Despair. 
The  vaulted  roof  echoed  his  hollow  voice, 
And  all  again  was  silence.     Quick  her  heart 
Panted.     He  drew  a  dagger  from  his  breast, 
And  cried  again,.  "  Haste  Damsel  to  repose  ! 
"  One  blow,  and  rest  for  ever  !"    On  the  FiendA 
Dark  scowl'd  the  Virgin  with  indignant  eye, 
And  dash'd  the  dagger  down.     He  next  his  heart 
Replaced  the  murderous  steel,  and  drew  the  Maid 
Along  the  downward  vault. 

The  damp  earth  gave 
A  dim  sound  as  they  pass'd  :  the  tainted  air 
Was  cold,  and  heavy  with  unwholesome  dews. 
"  Behold !"    the    fiend   exclaim'd,    u  how   gradual 

<{  here 
"  The  fleshly  burden  of  mortality 
€(  Moulders  to  clay  !''  then  fixing  his  broad  eye 
Full  on  her  face,  he  pointed  where  a  corpse 


233 

Lay  livid  -,  she  beheld  with  loathing  look,. 
The  spectacle  abhorr'd  by  living  man. 

"  Look  here  !"   Despair  pursued,  t(  this  loathsome 

"  mass 
u  Was  once  as  lovely,  and  as  full  of  life 
u  As,  Damsel  !  thou  art  now.    Those  deep-sunk 

r<  eyes 
"  Once  beam'd  the  mild  light  of  intelligence, 
u  And  where  thou  seest  the  pamper'd  flesh-worm 

"  trail, 
(<  Once  the  white  bosom  heaved.    She  fondly  thought 
u  That  at  the  hallowed  altar,  soon  the  Priest 
"  Should  bless  her  coming  union,  and  the  torch 
s<  Its  joyful  lustre  o'er  the  hall  of  joy> 
<e  Cast  on  her  nuptial  evening  :  earth  to  earth 
"  That  Priest  consign'd  her,  for  her  lover  went 
"  By  glory  lur'd  to  war,  and  perish'd  there  -, 
€<  Nor  she  endur'd  to  live.     Ha  !  fades  thy  cheek  ? 
l€-  Dost  thou  then>  Maiden,  tremble  at  the  tale  ^ 


984 

u  Look  here  !  behold  the  youthful  paramour  ! 
"  The  self-devoted  hero  ¥■■ 

Fearfully 
The  Maid  look'd  down,  and  saw  the  well-known 

face 
Of  Theodore  !  in  thoughts  unspeakable, 
Convulsed  with  horror,  o'er  her  face  she  clasp' d 
Her  cold  damp  hands  :    "  shrink  not,"  the  Phantom 

cried, 
"  Gaze  on  !  for  ever  gaze  !"  more  firm  he  grasp'd 
Her  quivering  arm  :  €€  this  lifeless  mouldering  clay, 
"  As  well  thou  knowrst,   was  wrarm  with  all  the 

"  glow 
"  Of  Youth  and  Love ;  this  is  the  arm  that  cleaved 
"  Salisbury's  proud  crest,  now  motionless  in  death^ 
"  Unable  to  protect  the  ravaged  frame 
u  From  the  foul  Offspring  of  Mortality 
u  That  feed  on  heroes.     Tho'  long  years  were  thine, 
"  Yet  never  more  would  life  reanimate 
"  This  murdered  youth  5  murdered  by  thee !  for  thou 


235 

"  Didst  lead  him  to  the  battle  from  his  home, 
"  Else  living  there  in  peace  to  good  old  age : 
(e  In  thy  defence  he  died :  strike  deep  !  destroy 
«  Remorse  with  Life." 

The  Maid  stood  motionless, 
And,  wistless  what  she  did,  with  trembling  hand 
Received  the  dagger.     Starting  then,   she  cried, 
<e  Avaunt  Despair  !  Eternal  Wisdom  deals 
1 '  Or  peace  to  man,  or  misery,  for  his  good 
"  Alike  design'd  ^  and  shall  the  Creature  cry, 
*5  Why  hast  thou  done  this  ?"  and  with  impious  pride 
u  Destroy  the  life  God  gave  ?" 

The  Fiend  rejoin'd, 
<c  And  thou  dost  deem  it  impious  to  destroy 
"  The  life  God  gave  ?  What,  Maiden,  is  the  lot 
"  Assigned  to  mortal  man  ?  born  but  to  drag, 
"  Thro'  life's  long  pilgrimage,  the  wearying  load 
"  Of  being  5  care-corroded  at  the  heart ; 
"  Assail'd  by  all  the  numerous  train  of  ills 
u  That  flesh  inherits  -7  till  at  length  worn  out, 

3 


236 

"  This  is  his  consummation  ! — think  again  ! 

"  What,  Maiden,  canst  thou  hope  from  lengthened  life* 

a  But  lengthen'd  sorrow  ?  If  protracted  long, 

<f  Till  on  the  bed  of  death  thy  feeble  limbs 

"  Stretch  out  their  languid  length,    oh  think  what 

**  thoughts, 
€<  What  agonizing  feelings,  in  that  hour, 
**  Assail  the  sinking  heart !  slow  beats  the  pulse, 
**  Dim  grows  the  eye,  and  clammy  drops  bedew 
u  The  shuddering  frame  \  then  in  its  mightiest  force> 
<(  Mightiest  in  impotence^,  the  love  of  life 
"  Seizes  the  throbbing  heart ;  the  faltering  lips 
"  Pour  out  the  impious  prayer,  that  fain  would  change 
"  The  unchangeable' s  decree  $  surrounding  friends 
"  Sob  round  the  sufferer,  wet  his  cheek  with  tears, 
if  And  all  he  loved  in  life  embitters  death ! 

«  Such,  Maiden,  are  the  pangs  that  wait  the  hour 
u  Of  calmest  dissolution !  yet  weak  man 
"  Dares,  in  his  timid  piety,  to  live  j 


237 

"  And  veiling  Fear  in  Superstition's  garb, 
«  He  calls  her  Resignation  ! 

"  Coward  wretch  ! 
«  Fond  Coward  ;  thus  to  make  his  Reason  war 
"  Against  his  Reason  !  insect  as  he  is, 
"  This  sport  of  Chance,  this  being  of  a  day, 
"  Whose  whole  existence  the  next  cloud  may  blast, 
U  Believes  himself  the  care  of  heavenly  power*, 
"  That  God  regards  Man,  miserable  Man, 
"  And  preaching  thus  of  Power  and  Providence, 
"  Will  crush  the  reptile  that  may  cross  his  path  ! 

«  Fool  that  thou  art!  the  Being  that  permits 
"  Existence,  gives  to  man  the  worthless  boon  ; 
u  A  goodly  gift  to  those  who,  fortune-blest, 
u  Bask  in  the  sunshine  of  Prosperity, 
<<  And  such  do  well  to  keep  it.     But  to  one 
"  Sick  at  the  heart  with  misery,  and  sore 
«  With  many  a  hard  unmerited  affliction, 
*  It  is  a  hair  that  chains  to  wretchedness 


238 

"  The  slave  who  dares  not  burst  it ! 

«  Thinkcst  thou, 
"  The  parent,  if  his  child  should  unrecall'd 
u  Return  and  fall  upon  his  neck,  and  cry, 
H  Oh  !  the  wide  world  is  comfortless,  and  full 
"  Of  vacant  joys  and  heart-consuming  cares, 
"  I  can  be  only  happy  in  my  home 
"With  thee — my  friend! — my  father!"    Thinkest 

thou, 
u  That  he  would  thrust  him  as  an  outcast  *  forth  ? 
<(  Oh  !  he  would  clasp  the  truant  to  his  heart, 
§t  And  love  the  trespass." 

Whilst  he  spake,  his  eye 
Dwelt  on  the  Maiden's  cheek,  and  read  her  soul 
Struggling  within.     In  trembling  doubt  she  stood, 
Even  as  the  wretch,  whose  famish'd  entrails  crave 
Supply,  before  him  sees  the  poison' d  food 
In  greedy  horror. 

*  Werter. 


239 

Yet,  not  silent  long, 
"  Eloquent  tempter  cease  I"   the  Maiden  cried, 
"  What  tho'  affliction  be  my  portion  here, 
"  Thinkest  thou  I  do  not  feel  high  thoughts  of  joy, 
"  Of  heart-ennobling  joy,  when  I  look  back  . 
u  Upon  a  life  of  duty  well  performed, 
"  Then  lift  mine  eyes  to  Heaven,  and  there  in  faith 
"  Know  my  reward  ?  . . .  I  grant,  .were  this  life  all, 
<(  Was  there  no  morning  to  the  tomb's  long  night, 
(C  If  man  did  mingle  with  the  senseless  clod, 
"  Himself  as  senseless,  then  wert  thou  indeed 
"  A  wise  and  friendly  comforter  I  . .  But,  Fiend, 
"  There  is  a  morning  to  the  tomb's  long  night, 
"  A  dawn  of  glory,  a  reward  in  Heaven, 
((  He  shall  not  gain  who  never  merited. 
'*  If  thou  didst  know  the  worth  of  one  good  deed 
"  In  life's  last  hour,  thou  would'st  not  bid  me  lose 
"  The  power  to  benefit !  if  I  but  save 
u  A  drowning  fly,  I  shall  not  live  in  vain. 
«  1  have  great  duties,  Fiend !  me  France  expects, 


240 

*'  Her  heaven-doom'd  Champion/' 

"  Maiden,  thou  hast  done 
"  Thy  mission  here/'  the  unbaffled  Fiend  replied  : 
"  The  foes  are  fled  from  Orleans  :  thou,  perchance 
"  Exulting  in  the  pride  of  victory, 
u  Forgettest  him  who  perish'd  !  yet  albeit 
"  Thy  hardened  heart  forget  the  gallant  youth ; 
"  That  hour  allotted  canst  thou  not  escape, 
u  That  dreadful  hour>  when  Contumely  and  Shame 
"  Shall  sojourn  in  thy  dungeon.     Wretched  Maid ! 
"  Destined  to  drain  the  cup  of  bitterness, 
u  Even  to  its  dregs  I  England's  inhuman  Chiefs 
u  Shall  scoff  thy  sorrows,  blacken  thy  pure  fame, 
cc  Wit-wanton  it  with  lewd  barbarity, 
u  And  force  such  burning  blushes  to  the  cheek 
**  Of  Virgin  modesty,  that  thou  shalt  wish 
<(  The  earth  might  cover  thee  !  in  that  last  hour, 
"  When  thy  bruis'd  breast  shall  heave  beneath  the 

e<  chains 
"  That  link  thee  to  the  stake  ;  when  o'er  thy  form 


241 

(e  Exposed  unmantled,  the  brute  multitude 
"  Shall  gaze,  and  thou  shalt  hear  the  ribald  taunt, 
i(  More  painful  than  the  circling  flames  that  scorch 
"  Each  quivering  member  -,  wilt  thou  not  in  vain 
*<  Then  wish  my  friendly  aid  ?  then  wish  thine  ear 
"  Had  drank  my  words  of  comfort  ?  that  thy  hand 
4<  Had  grasp'd  the  dagger,  and  in  death  preserved 
"  Insulted  modesty  ?'" 

Her  glowing  cheek 
Blush' d  crimson  j  her  wide  eye  on  vacancy 
Was  flx'd  5  her  breath  short  panted.  The  cold  Fiend, 
Grasping  her  hand  exclaim'd,  "  too-timid  Maid 
"  So  long  repugnant  to  the  healing  aid 
c<  My  friendship  proffers,  now  shalt  thou  behold 
"  The  allotted  length  of  life." 

He  stamp'd  the  earth, 
And  dragging  a  huge  coffin  as  his  car, 
Two  Gouls  came  on,  of  form  more  fearful-foul 
Than  ever  palsied  in  her  wildest  dream 
Hag-ridden  Superstition.    Then  Despair 


242 

Seiz'd  on  the  Maid  whose  curdling  blood  stood  still, 
And  placed  her  in  the  seat ;  and  on  they  pass'd 
Adown  the  deep  descent.     A  meteor  light 
Shot  from  the  Daemons,  as  they  dragg'd  along 
The  unwelcome  load,  and  mark'd  their  brethren  glut 
On  carcasses. 

Below  the  vault  dilates 
Its  ample  bulk.     "  Look  here!" — Despair  addrest 
The  shuddering  Virgin,  u  see  the  dome  of  Death  !" 
It  was  a  spacious  cavern,  hewn  amid 
The  entrails  of  the  earth,  as  tho'  to  form 
The  grave  of  all  mankind  :  no  eye  could  reach, 
Tho'  gifted  with  the  Eagle's  ample  ken, 
Its  distant  bounds.    There,  thron'd  in  darkness,  dwelt 
The  unseen  PowrER  of  Death. 

Here  stopt  the  Gouls, 
Reaching  the  destin'd  spot.     The  Fiend  leapt  out, 
And  from  the  coffin,  as  he  led  the  Maid, 
Exclaim'd,  "  Where  never  yet  stood  mortal  man, 
f€  Thou  standest :  look  around  this  boundless  vault  5 


243 

*'  Observe  the  dole  that  Nature  deals  to  man, 
*'  And  learn  to  know  thy  friend." 

She  not  replied, 
Observing  where  the  Fates  their  several  tasks 
Plied  ceaseless.     <(  Mark  how  long  the  shortest  web 
**  Allowed  to  man  !"  he  cried ;  f<  observe  how  soon, 
"  Twin'd  round  yon  never-resting  wheel,  they  change 
<(  Their  snowy  hue,  darkening  thro'  many  a  shade, 
c<  Till  Atropos  relentless  shuts  the  sheers  !" 

Too  true  he  spake,  for  of  the  countless  threads, 

Drawn  from  the  heap,  as  white  as  unsunn'd  snow, 

Or  as  the  lovely  lily  of  the  vale, 

Was  never  one  beyond  the  little  span 

Of  infancy  untainted :  few  there  were 

But  lightly  tinged  5  more  of  deep  crimson  hue, 

Or  deeper  sable*  died.     Two  Genii  stood, 


*  These  lines  strongly  resemble  a  passage  in  the  Pharonnida 
of  William  Chamberlayne,  a  Poet  who  has  told  an  interesting 
story  in  uncouth  rhymes,  and  mingled  sublimity  of  thought 


244 

Still  as  the  web  of  Being  was  drawn  forth, 
Sprinkling  their  powerful  drops.     From  ebon  urn, 
The  one  unsparing  dash'd  the  bitter  wave 
Of  woe  5  and  as  he  dash'd,  his  dark-brown  brow 
Relax'd  to  a  hard  smile.     The  milder  form 
Shed  less  profusely  there  his  lesser  store ; 


and  beauty  of  expression,    with  the  quaintest  conceits,  and 
most  awkward  inversions. 

On  a  rock  more  high 
Than  Nature's  common  surface,  she  beholds 
The  Mansion  house  of  Fate,  which  thus  unfolds 
Its  sacred  mysteries.     A  trine  within 
A  quadrate  placed,  both  these  encompast  in 
A  perfect  circle  was  its  form;  but  what 
Its  matter  was,  for  us  to  wonder  at, 
Is  undiscovered  left.     A  tower  there  stands 
At  every  angle,   where  Time's  fatal  hands 
The  impartial  Parc^e  dwell ;  i*  the  first  she  sees 
Clotho  the  kindest  of  the  Destinies, 
From  immaterial  essences  to  cull 
The  seeds  of  life,  and  of  them  frame  the  wool 
Foi  Lachesis  to  spin  ;  about  her  flie 
Myriads  of  souls,  that  yet  want  flesh  to  lie 


Ii5 


Sometimes  with  tears  increasing  the  scant  boon* 

Mourning  the  lot  of  man  j  and  happy  he 

Who  on  his  thread  those  precious  drops  receives  j 

It  it  be  happiness  to  have  the  pulse 

Throb  fast  with  pity,  and  in  such  a  world 

Of  wretchedness,  the  generous  heart  that  aches 

"With  anguish  at  the  sisrht  of  human  woe. 


WarnVd  with  their  functions  in,  whose  strength  bestows 
That  power  by  which  man  ripe  for  misery  grows. 

Her  next  of  objects  was  that  glorious  tower 

Where  that  swift-fingered  Nymph  that  spares  no  hour 

From  mortals'  service,  draws  the  various  threads 

Of  life  in  several  lengths  ;  to  weary  beds 

Of  age  extending  some,  whilst  others  in 

Their  infancy  are  broke:  some  blackt  in  sin, 

Others,  the  favorites  of  Heaven,  from  whence 

Their  origin,  candid  icith  innocence ; 

Some  purpled  in  afflictions,  others  dyed 

In  sanguine  pleasures  :   some  in  glittering  pride 

Spun  to  adorn  the  earth,  whilst  others  wear 

Rags  of  deformity,  but  knots  of  care 

VOL.  II.  M 


246 

To  her  the  Fiend,  well  hoping  now  success, 

"  This  as  thy  thread  !  observe  how  short  the  span, 

u  And  see  how  copious  yonder  Genius  pours 

**■  The  bitter  stream  of  woe."     The  Maiden  saw 

Fearless.  "  Now  gaze  V*  the  tempter  Fiend  exclaim'd, 

And  placed  again  the  poniard  in  her  hand, 

Tor  Superstition,  with  sulphureal  torch 


No  thread  was  wholly  free  from.     Next  to  this 

Fair  glorious  tower,  was  placed  that  black  abyss 

Of  dreadful  Atropos,  the  baleful  seat 

Of  death  and  horrour,  in  each  room  repleat 

With  lazy  damps,  loud  groans,  and  the  sad  sight 

Of  pale  grim  Ghosts,  those  terrours  of  the  night. 

To  this,  the  last  stage  that  the  winding  clew 

Of  Life  can  lead  mortality  unto, 

Fear  was  the  dreadful  Porter,  which  let  in 

All  guests  sent  thither  by  destructive  sin. 

It  is  possible  that  I  may  have  written  from  the  recollection  of 
this  passage.  The  conceit  is  the  same,  and  I  willingly  attri- 
bute it  to  Chamberlayne,  a  Poet  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for 
many  hours  of  delight,  and  whom  I  one  day  hope  to  rescue 
from  undeserved  oblivion. 


24? 

Stalk'd  to  the  loom.     This,  Damsel,  is  thy  fate ! 
"  The  hour  draws  on — now  drench  the  dagger  deep ! 
"  Now  rush  to  happier  worlds  !" 

The  Maid  replied, 
"  Or  to  prevent  or  change  the  will  of  Heaven, 
"  Impious  T  strive  not :  be  that  will  performed  !** 


M  2 


£48 

THE  VISION 

<if 
TflE  MAID  OF  ORLEANS. 


(Cfce  Accent!  SSoofc. 

She  spake,  and  lo  !  celestial  radiance  beain  d 
Amid  the  air,  such  odors  wafting  now 
As  erst  came  blended  with  the  evening  gale, 
From  Eden's  bowers  of  bliss.     An  angel  form 
Stood  by  the  Maid';  his  wings,  ethereal  white., 
Flash'd  like  the  diamond  in  the  noon-tide  sun, 
Dazzling  her  mortal  eye  :  all  else  appear' d 
Her  Theodore. 

Amazed  she  saw  :  the  Fiend 
Was  fled,  and  on  her  ear  the  well-known  voice 
Sounded,  tho'  now  more  musically  sweet 
Than  ever  yet  had  thrill'd  her  charmed  soul, 


249 

When  eloquent  Affection  fondly  told 
The  day-dreams  of  delight. 

"  Beloved  Maid  ! 
'*  Lo  !  I  am  with  thee  !  still  thy  Theodore  ! 
"  Hearts  in  the  holy  bands  of  Love  combin'd, 
94  Death  has  no  power  to  sever.     Thou  art  mine  ! 
<'  A  little  while  and  thou  shalt  dwell  with  me 
<(  In  scenes  where  Sorrow  is  not.     Cheerily 
"  Tread  thou  the  path  that  leads  thee  to  the  grave, 
•5  Rough  tho'  it  be  and  painful,  for  the  grave 
"  Is  but  the  threshold  of  Eternity. 

"  Favoured  of  Heaven  !   to  thee  is  given  to  view 
'*  These  secret  realms.     The  bottom  of  the  abyss 
"  Thou  treadest,  Maiden  !   Here  the  dungeons  are 
<f  Where  bad  men  learn  repentance  !  souls  diseased 
"  Must  have  their  remedy  $  and  where  disease 
"  Is  rooted  deep,  the  remedy  is  long 
«  Perforce,  and  painful." 

Thus  the  Spirit  spake, 
U  3 


250 

And  led  the  Maid  along  a  narrow  path, 
Dark  gleaming  to  the  light  of  far-off  flames, 
More  dread  than  darkness.     Soon  the  distant  sound 
Of  clanking  anvils,  and  the  lengthened  breath 
Provoking  fire  are  heard :  and  now  they  reach 
A  wide  expanded  den  where  all  around 
Tremendous  furnaces,  with  hellish  blaze, 
Flamed  dreadful.     At  the  heaving  bellows  stood 
The  meagre  form  of  Care,  and  as  he  blew 
To  augment  the  fire,  the  fire  augmented  scorch' d 
His  wretched  limbs  :  sleepless  for  ever  thus 
He  toil'd  and  toil'd,  of  toil  no  end  to  know 
But  endless  toil  and  never-ending  woe. 

An  aged  man  went  round  the  infernal  vault, 
Urging  his- work  men  to  their  ceaseless  task  : 
White  were  his  locks,  as  is  the  wintry  snow 
On  hoar  Plinlimmon's  head.     A  golden  staff 
His  steps  supported  j  powerful  talisman, 
Which  whoso  feels  shall  never  feel  again 


251 

The  tear  of  Pity,  or  the  throb  of  Love. 
Touch'd  but  by  this,  the  massy  gates  give  way, 
The  buttress  trembles,  and  the  guarded  wall, 
Guarded  in  vain,  submits.     Him  heathens  erst 
Had  deified,  and  bowed  the  suppliant  knee 
To  Plutus.     Nor  are  now  his  votaries  few, 
Even  tho'  the  blessed  Teacher  of  mankind 
Hath  said,  that  easier  thro'  the  needle's  eye 
Shall  the  huge  *  camel  pass,  than  the  rich  man 
Enter  the  gates  of  heaven.     "  Ye  cannot  serve 
"  Your  God,  and  worship  Mammon." 

"Missioned  Maid!" 
So  spake  the  Angel,  "  know  that  these,  whose  hands 


*  I  had  originally  written  cable  instead  of  camel.  The 
alteration  would  not  be  worth  noticing  were  it  not  for  the 
circumstance  which  occasioned  it.  Facilius  elephas  per  for- 
amen acus,  is  among  the  Hebrew  adages  collected  by  Drusius; 
the  same  metaphor  is  found  in  two  other  Jewish  proverbs,  and 
this  appears  to  determine  the  signification  of  xxprios.  Matt. 
19.  24. 

m4 


"  Round  each  white  furnace  ply  the  unceasing  toil, 
"  Were  Mammon's  slaves  on  earth.     They  did  not 

<(  spare 
u  To  wring  from  Poverty  the  hard-earn 'd  mite, 
u  They  robb'd  the  orphan's  pittance,  they  could  see 
,(  Want's  asking  eye  unmoved  j  and  therefore  these, 
u  Ranged  round  the  furnace,  still  must  persevere 
(t  In  Mammon's  service ;  scorched  by  these  fierce  fires, 
u  And  frequent  deluged  by  the  o'erboiling  ore  : 
"  Yet  still  so  framed,  that  oft  to  quench  their  thirst 
"  Unquenchable,  large  draughts  of  molten  *  gold 


*  The  same  idea,  and  almost  the  same  words  are  in  an  old 
play  by  John  Ford.     The  passage  is  a  very  fine  one : 

Ay,  you  are  wretched,  miserably  wretched, 

Almost  condettrd  alive  \     There  is  a  place, 

(List  daughter!)  in  a  black  and  hollow  vault, 

Where  day  is  never  seen  ;  there  shines  no  sun, 

But  flaming  horror  of  consuming  fires  ; 

A  lightless  sulphur,  choak'd  with  sraoaky  foggs 

Of  an  infected  darkness.     In  this  place 

Dwell  many  thousand  thousand  sundry  sorts       -     ' 


253 

"  They  drink  insatiate,  still  with  pain  renewed, 
«  Pain  to  destroy." 

So  saying,  her  he  led 
Forth  from  the  dreadful  cavern  to  a  cell, 
Brilliant  with  gem-born  light.     The  ragged  walls 
Part  gleam' d  with  gold,  and  part  with  silver  ore 
A  milder  radiance  shone.     The  Carbuncle 
There  its  strong  lustre  like  the  flamy  sun 
Shot  forth  irradiate  ;  from  the  earth  beneath, 


Of  never-dying  deaths  ;  there  damned  souls 
Roar  without  pity,  there  are  gluttons  fed 
With  toads  and  adders  :  there  is  burning  oil 
Pour'd  down  the  drunkard's  throat,  the  usurer 
Is  forced  to  sup  whole  draughts  of  molten  gold  ; 
There  is  the  murderer  for  ever  stabb'd, 
Yet  he  can  never  die ;  there  lies  the  wanton 
On  racks  of  burning  steel,  whilst  in  his  soul 
He  feels  the  torment  of  his  raging  lust. 

'Ti$  Pity  she's  a  Whore, 

I  wrote  this  passage  when  very  young,  and  the  idea,  trite  as  it 
is,  was  new  to  me.     It  occurs  I  believe  in  most  descriptions  of 
hell,  and  perhaps  owes  its  origin  to  the  fate  of  Crassus. 
M  5 


254 

And  from  the  roof  there  streamed  a  diamond  light ; 
Rubies  and  amethysts  their  glows  commix  d 
With  the  gay  topaz,  and  the  softer  ray 
Shot  from  the  sapphire,  and  the  emerald's  hue, 
And  bright  pyropus. 

There  on  golden  seats, 
A  numerous,  sullen,  melancholy  train 
Sat  silent.     "  Maiden,  these,"  said  Theodore, 
u  Are  they  who  let  the  love  of  wealth  absorb 
<f  All  other  passions ;  in  their  souls  that  vice 
u  Struck  deeply-rooted,  like  the  poison- tree 
4<  That  with  its  shade  spreads  barrenness  around* 
"  These,  Maid  !  were  men  by  no  atrocious  crime 
"  Blacken' d,  no  fraud,  nor  ruffian  violence  : 
"  Men  of  fair  dealing,  and  respectable 
u  On  earth,  but  such  as  only  for  themselves 
•■'  Heap'd  up  their  treasures,  deeming  all  their  wealth 
•'  Their  own,  and  given  to  them,  by  partial  Heaven, 
"  To  bless  them  only  :  therefore  here  they  sit, 
"  Possessed  of  gold  enough,  and  by  no  pain 


"  Tormented,  save  the  knowledge  of  the  bliss 
"  They  lost,  and  vain  repentance.     Here  they  dwell, 
"  Loathing  these  useless  treasures,  till  die  hour 
"  Of  general  restitution." 

Thence  they  past, 
And  now  arrived  at  such  a  gorgeous  dome, 
As  even  the  pomp  of  Eastern  opulence 
Could  never  equal  :  wandered  thro'  its  halls 
A  numerus  train  ;  some  with  the  red-swoln  eye 
Of  riot,  and  intemperance  bloated  cheek  -, 
Some  pale  and  nerveless,  and  with  feeble  step, 
And  eyes  lack-lustre. 

"  Maiden  !"  said  her  guide, 
M  These  are  the  wretched  slaves  of  Appetite, 
"  Curst  with  their  wish  enjoyed.     The  epicure 
u  Here  pampers  his  foul  frame,  till  the  pall'd  sense 
"  Loaths  at  the  banquet  $  the  voluptuous  here 
u  Plunge  in  the  tempting  torrent  of  delight, 
"  And  sink  in  misery.     All  they  wish'd  on  earth, 
14  Possessing  here,  whom  have  they  to  accuse, 
*      m  6 


256 

"  But  their  own  folly,  for  the  lot  they  chose  ? 
"  Yet,  for  that  these  injured  themselves  alone, 
"  They  to  the  house  of  Penitence  may  hie, 
"  And,  by  a  long  and  painful  regimen, 
u  To  wearied  Nature  her  exhausted  powers 
ft  Restore,  till  they  shall  learn  to  form  the  wish 
"  Of  wisdom,  and  Almighty  Goodness  grants 
"  That  prize  to  him  who  seeks  it.'* 

Whilst  he  spake, 
The  board  is  spread.     With  bloated  paunch,  and  eye 
Fat  swoln,  and  legs  whose  monstrous  size  disgraced 
The  human  form  divine,  their  caterer, 
Right  Gluttony,  set  forth  the  smoaking  feast. 
And  by  his  side  came  on  a  brother  form, 
With  fiery  cheek  of  purple  hue,  and  red 
And  scurfy-white,  mix'd  motley  ;  his  gross  bulk, 
Like  some  huge  hogshead  shapen'd,  as  applied. 
Him  had  antiquity  with  mystic  rites 
Adord,  to  him  the  sons  of  Greece,  and  thine 
Imperial  Rome,  on  many  an  altar  pour'd 


257 

The  victim  blood,  with  godlike  titles  graced, 

Bacchus,  or  Dionusus  ;  son  of  Jove, 

Deem'd  falsely,  for  from  Folly's  ideot  form 

He  sprung,  what  time  Madness,  with  furious  hand, 

Seiz'd  on  the  laughing  female.     At  one  birth 

She  brought  the  brethren,  menial  here  below, 

The  Sovereigns  upon  earth,  where  oft  they  hold 

High  revels  :   mid  the  Monastery's  gloom, 

Thy  palace  Gluttony,  and  oft  to  thee 

The  sacrifice  is  spread,  when  the  grave  voice 

Episcopal,  proclaims  approaching  day 

Of  visitation,  or  Churchwardens  meet 

To  save  the  wretched  many  from  the  gripe 

Of  Poverty,  or  mid  thy  ample  halls 

Of  London,  mighty  Mayor  !  rich  Aldermen, 

Of  coming  feast  hold  converse. 

Otherwhere, 
For  tho*  allied  in  nature  as  in  blood, 
They  hold  divided  sway,  his  brother  lifts 
His  spungy  sceptre.     In  the  noble  domes 


258 

Of  Princes,  and  state-wearied  Ministers, 

Maddening  he  reigns  j  and  when  the  affrighted  mind 

Casts  o'er  a  long  career  of  guilt  and  blood 

Its  eye  reluctant,  then  his  aid  is  sought 

To  lull  the  worm  of  Conscience  to  repose. 

He  too  the  halls  of  country  Squires  frequents, 

But  chiefly  loves  the  learned  gloom  that  shades 

Thy  offspring  Rhedycina !  and  thy  walls, 

Granta  !  nightly  libations  there  to  him 

Profuse  are  pour'd,  till  from  the  dizzy  brain 

Triangles,  Circles,  Parallelograms, 

Moods,  Tenses,  Dialects,  and  Demigods, 

And  Logic  and  Theology  are  swept 

By  the  red  deluge. 

Unmolested  there 
He  revels  ;  till  the  general  feast  comes  round, 
The  sacrifice  Septennial,  when  the  sons 
Of  England  meet,  with  watchful  care  to  chuse 
Their  delegates,  wise,  independent  men, 
Unbribing  and  unbrib'd,  and  chosen  to  guard 


259 

Their   rights    and    charters    from    the   encroaching 

grasp 
Of  greedy  Power  ;  then  all  the  joyful  land 
Join  in  his  sacrifices,  so  inspir'd 
To  make  the  important  choice. 

The  observing  Maid 
Addressed  her  guide,  "  These  Theodore.,  thou  sayest 
"  Are  men,  who  pampering  their  foul  appetites, 
<(  Injured  themselves  alone.     But  where  are  they, 
"  The  worst  of  villains,  viper-like,  who  coil 
u  Around  the  guileless  female,  so  to  sting 
"  The  heart  that  loves  them  ?M 

"  Them/'  the  spirit  replied, 
(<  A  long  and  dreadful  punishment  awaits. 
"  For  when  the  prey  of  want  and  infamy, 
"  Lower  and  lower  still  the  victim  sinks, 
"  Even  to  the  depth  of  shame,  not  one  lewd  word, 
"  One  impious  imprecation  from  her  lips 
"  Escapes,  nay  not  a  thought  of  evil  lurks 
*  In  the  polluted  mind,  that  does  not  plead 


260 

<e  Before  the  throne  of  Justice,  thunder-tongued 
"  Against  the  foul  Seducer." 

Now  they  reach M 
The  house  of  Penitence.     Credulity 
Stood  at  the  gate,  stretching  her  eager  head 
As  tho'  to  listen  ;  on  her  vacant  face, 
A  smile  that  promis'd  premature  assent; 
Tho'  her  Regret  behind,  a  meagre  Fiend, 
Disciplined  sorely. 

Here  they  enter'd  inr 
And  now  arrived  where,  as  in  study  tranced, 
They  saw  the  Mistress  of  the  Dome.     Her  face- 
Spake  that  composed  severity,  that  knows 
No  angry  impulse,  no  weak  tenderness, 
Resolved  and  calm.     Before  her  lay  that  Book 
That  hath  the  words  of  Life ;  and  as  she  read, 
Sometimes  a  tear  would  trickle  down  her  cheek, 
Tho'  heavenly  joy  beam'd  in  her  eye  the  while* 

Leaving  her  undisturb'd,  to  the  first  ward 


5261 

Of  this  great  Lazar-house,  the  Angel  led 

The  favoured  Maid  ef  Orleans.     Kneeling  down 

On  the  hard  stone  which  their  bare  knees  had  worn, 

In  sackcloth  robed,  a  numerous  train  appear'd  : 

Hard-featured  some,  and  some  demurely  grave  j 

Yet  such  expression  stealing  from  the  eye, 

As  tho*,  that  only  naked,  all  the  rest 

Was  one  close  fitting  mask.     A  scoffing  Fiend, 

For  Fiend  he  was,  tho'  wisely  serving  here 

Mock'd  at  his  patients,  and  did  often  pour 

Ashes  upon  them,  and  then  bid  them  say 

Their  prayers  aloud,  and  then  he  louder  laughed  : 

For  these  were  Hypocrites,  on  earth  revered 

As  holy  ones,  who  did  in  public  tell 

Their    beads,    and    make   long   prayers,    and   crosa 

themselves, 
And  call  themselves  most  miserable  sinners, 
That  so  they  might  be  deem'd  most  pious  saints : 
And  go  all  filth,  and  never  let  a  smile 
Bend  their  stern  muscles  \  gloomy,  sullen  men, 


262 

Barren  of  all  affection,  and  all  this 

To  please  their  God,  forsooth  !  and  therefore  Scorn 

Grinn'd  at  his  patients,  making  them  repeat 

Their  solemn  farce,  with  keenest  raillery 

Tormenting  ;  but  if  earnest  in  their  prayer, 

They  pour'd  the  silent  sorrows  of  the  soul 

To  Heaven,  then  did  they  not  regard  his  mocks 

Which  then  came  painless,  and  Humility 

Soon  rescued  them,  and  led  to  Penitence, 

That  She  might  lead  to  Heaven. 

From  thence  they  came, 
Where,  in  the  next  ward,  a  most  wretched  band 
Groan'd  underneath  the  bitter  tyranny 
Of  a  fierce  Daemon.     His  coarse  hair  was  red, 
Pale  grey  his  eyes,  and  blood-shot  ;  and  his  face 
Wrinkled  by  such  a  smile  as  Malice  wears 
In  ecstacy.     Well-pleased  he  went  around. 
Plunging  his  dagger  in  the  hearts  of  some, 
Or  probing  with  a  poison'd  lance  their  breasts, 
Or  placing  coals  of  fire  within  their  wounds  -} 


Z63 

Or  seizing  some  within  his  mighty  grasp, 

He  nVd  them  on  a  stake,  and  then  drew  back 

And  laugh'd  to  see  them  writhe. 

*  These,"  s>id  the  Spirit, 
u  Are  taught  by  Cruelty,  to  loath  the  lives 
"  They  led  themselves.     Here  are  those  wicked  meo 
"  Who  loved  to  exercise  their  tyrant  power 
"  On  speechless  brutes  j  bad  husbands  undergo 
"  A  long  purgation  here  -,  the  traffickers 
"  In  human  flesh  here  too  are  disciplined. 
"  Till  by  their  suffering  they  have  equall'd  all 
g<  The  miseries  they  inflicted,  all  the  mass 
u  Of  wretchedness  caused  by  the  wars  they  waged, 
"  The  villages  they  burnt,  the  widows  left 
"  In  want,  the  slave  or  led  to  suicide, 
u  Or  murdered  by  the  foul  infected  air 
"  Of  his  close  dungeon,  or  more  sad  than  all, 
"  His  virtue  lost,  his  very  soul  enslaved, 
"  And  driven  by  woe  to  wickedness. 

"  These  next, 


u  Whom  thou  beholdest  in  this  dreary  room, 

"  So  sullen,  and  with  such  an  eye  of  hale 

"  Each  on  the  other  scowling,  these  have  been 

"  False  friends.       Tormented  by  their  own  dark 

u  thoughts 
"  Here  they  dwell ;  in  the  hollow  of  their  hearts 
"  There  is  a  worm  that  feeds,  and  tho'  thou  seest 
"  That  skilful  leech  who  willingly  would  heal 
ft  The  ill  they  suffer,  judging  of  all  else 
u  By  their  own  evil  standard,  they  suspect 
"  The  aid  he  vainly  proffers,  lengthening  thus 
"  By  vice  its  punishment." 

**  But  who  are  these," 
The  Maid  exclaimed,   "  that  robed  in  flowing  lawn, 
*€  And  mitred,  or  in  scarlet,  and  in  caps 
xe  Like  Cardinals,  I  see  in  every  ward, 
<(  Performing  menial  service  at  the  beck 
«  Of  all  who  bid  them?" 

Theodore  replied, 
<(  These  men  are  they  who  in  the  name  of  Christ 


£65 

*'  Have  heap'd  up  wealth,  and  arrogating  power, 

"  Have  made  men  bow  the  knee,  and  call'd  themselves 

"  Most  Reverend  Graces  and  Right  Reverend  Lords. 

"  They  dwelt  in  palaces,  in  purple  clothed, 

"  And  in  fine  linen  :  therefore  are  they  here  ; 

"  And  though  they  would  not  minister  on  earth, 

"  Here  penanced  they  perforce  must  minister  : 

"  Did  not  the  Holy  One  of  Nazareth, 

i(  Tell  them,  his  kingdom  is  not  of  the  world  ?" 

So  saying  on  they  past,  and  now  arrived 
Where  such  a  hideous  ghastly  groupe  abode, 
That  the  Maid  gazed  with  half-averting  eye, 
And  shudder'd  :  each  one  was  a  loathly  corpse, 
The  worm  did  banquet  on  his  putrid  prey, 
Yet  had  they  life  and  feeling  exquisite 
Tho'  motionless  and  mute. 

"  Most  wretched  men 
"  Are  these,"  the  angel  cried.     These,  JOJN,  are 

"  bards 
"  Whose  loose  lascivious  lays  perpetuated 


266 

"  Their  own  corruption.     Soul-polluted  slaves, 

"  Who  sate  them  down,  deliberately  lewd, 

ff  So  to  awake  and  pamper  lust  in  minds 

"  Unborn  -,  and  therefore  foul  of  body  now 

u  As  then  they  were  of  soul,  tliey  here  abide 

"  Long  as  the  evil  works  they  left  on  earth 

"  Shall  live  to  taint  mankind.     A  dreadful  xioom  ! 

"  Yet  amply  merited  by  that  bad  man 

"  Who  prostitutes  the  sacred  gift  of  song  !M 

And  now  they  reached  a  huge  and  massy  pile, 
Massy  it  seemed,  and  yet  in  every  blast 
As  to  its  ruin  shook.     There,  porter  fit, 
Remorse  for  ever  his  sad  vigils  kept. 
Pale,  hollow-eyed,  emaciate,  sleepless  wretch, 
Inly  he  groan'd,  or,  starting,  wildly  shriek'd, 
Aye  as  the  fabric  tottering  from  its  base, 
Threatened  its  fall,  and  so  expectant  still 
Lived  in  the  dread  of  danger  still  delayed. 
They  enter'd  there  a  large  and  lofty  dome, 
O'er  whose  black  marble  sides  a  dim  drear  light 


267 

Struggled  with  darkness  from  the  unfrequent  lamp. 

Enthroned  around,  the  Murderers  of  Mankind, 

Monarchs,  the  great !  the  glorious  !  the  august ! 

Each  bearing  on  his  brow  a  crown  of  fire, 

Sat  stern  and  silent.     Nimrod  he  was  there, 

First  King  the  mighty  hunter  -,  and  that  Chief 

Who  did  belie  his  mother's  fame,  that  so 

He  might  be  called  young  Amnion.     In  this  court 

Caesar  was  crown'd,  accurst  liberticide  j 

And  he  who  murdered  Tully,  that  cold  villain, 

Octavius,  tho'  the  courtly  minion's  lyre 

Hath  hymn'd  his  praise,  tho'  Maro  sung  to  him, 

And  when  Death  levelled  to  original  clay 

The  royal  carcase,  Flattery,  fawning  low, 

Fell  at  his  feet,  and  worshipped  the  new  God. 

*  Titus  was  here,  the  Conqueror  of  the  Jews, 


*  During  the  siege  of  Jerusalem,  "  the  Roman  commander, 
ivilh  a  generous  clemency,  that  inseparable  attendant  on  true 
heroism,  laboured  incessantly,  and  to  the  very  last  moment,  to 


268 

He  the  delight  of  human-kind  misnamed , 
Caesars  and  Soldans,  Emperors  and  Kings, 
Here  they  were  all,  all  who  for  glory  fought, 
Here  in  the  Court  of  Glory,  reaping  now 
The  meed  they  merited. 

As  gazing  round 
The  virgin  mark'd  the  miserable  train, 
A  deep  and  hollow  voice  from  one  went  forth  ; 
u  Thou  who  art  come  to  view  our  punishment, 


preserve  the  place.  With  this  view,  he  again  and  again  in- 
treated  the  tyrants  to  surrender  and  save  their  lives.  With  the 
same  view  also,  after  carrying  the  second  wall  the  siege  was 
intermitted  four  days  :  to  rouse  their  fears,  prisoners,  to  the 
number  of  Jive  hundred,  or  more  were  crucified  daily  before  the 
walls ;  till  space,  Josephus  says,  was  wanting  for  the  crosses, 
and  crosses  for  the  captives" 

From  the  Bampton  Lectures  of  Ralph  Churton. 

If  any  of  my  readers  should  enquire  why  Titus  Vespasian,  the 
Delight  of  Mankind,  is  placed  in  such  a  situation, — I  answer, 

for  "  HIS  GENEROUS  CLEMENCY,  THAT  INSEPARABLE  AT- 
TENDANT   ON    TRUE    HEKOISM  ! 

4 


269 

<f  Maiden  of  Orleans  !  hither  turn  thine  eyes, 

**  For  I  am  he  whose  bloody  victories 

«  Thy  power  hath  rendered  vain.     Lo  !  I  am  here, 

€€  The  hero  conqueror  of  Agincourt, 

"Henry  of  England  ! — wretched  that  I  am, 

<f  I  might  have  reigned  in  happiness  and  peace, 

"JJ  My  coffers  full,  my  subjects  undisturbed, 

u  And  Plenty  and  Prosperity  had  loved 

"  To  dwell  amongst  them  :  but  mine  eye  beheld 

*€  The  realm  of  France,  by  faction  tempest- torn 

"  And  therefore  I  did  think  that  it  would  fall 

4e  An  easy  prey.     I  persecuted  those 

*■  Who  taught  new  doctrines,  tho*  they  taught  the 

"  truth : 
■*  And  when  I  heard  of  thousands  by  the  sword 
"  Cut  off,  or  blasted  by  the  pestilence, 
"  I  calmly  counted  up  my  proper  gains, 
u  And  sent  new  herds  to  slaughter.     Temperate 
**  Myself,  no  blood  that  mutinied,  no  vice 
44  Tainting  my  private  life,  I  sent  abroad 

TOL.  II.  H 


270 

€t  Murder  and  Rape  ;  and  therefore  am  I  doom'd, 
u  Like  these  imperial  Sufferers,  crowned  with  fire, 
"  Here  to  remain,  till  Man's  awaken'd  eye 
"  Shall  see  the  genuine  blackness  of  our  deeds, 
€<  And  warn'd  by  them,  till  the  whole  human  race, 
"  Equalling  in  bliss  the  aggregate  we  caus'd 
u  Of  wretchedness,  shall  form  one  brotherhood, 
"  One  universal  Family  of  Love/' 


271 

THE  VISION 

of 
THE  MAID  OF  ORLEANS. 

fffc  (CfoirD  95oofc, 


The  Maiden,  musing  on  the  Warrior's  words, 
Turned  from  the  Hall  of  Glory.     Now  they  reach'd 
A  cavern,  at  whose  mouth  a  Genius  stood, 
In  front  a  beardless  youth,  whose  smiling  eye 
Beam'd  promise,  but  behind,  withered  and  old, 
And  all  unlovely.     Underneath  his  feet 
Lay  records  trampled,  and  the  laurel  wreath 
Now  rent  and  faded  :  in  his  hand  he  held 
An  hour-glass,  and  as  fall  the  restless  sands, 
N  2 


272 

So  pass  the  lives  of  men.     By  him  they  past 

Along  the  darksome  cave,  and  reach'd  a  stream, 

Still  rolling  onward  its  perpetual  waves, 

Noiseless  and  undisturbed.     Here  they  ascend 

A  Bark  unpiloted,  that  down  the  flood, 

Borne  by  the  current,  rush'd.     The  circling  stream, 

Returning  to  itself,  an  island  form'd  ; 

Nor  had  the  Maiden's  footsteps  ever  reach'd 

The  insulated  coast,  eternally 

Rapt  round  the  endless  course  5  but  Theodore 

Drove  with  an  angel's  will  the  obedient  bark. 

They  land,  a  mighty  fabric  meets  their  eyes, 

Seen  by  the  gem-born  light.     Of  adamant 

The  pile  was  framed,  for  ever  to  abide 

Firm  in  eternal  strength.     Before  the  gate 

Stood  eager  Expectation,  as  to  list 

The  half-heard  murmurs  issuing  from  within, 

Her  mouth  half-open'd,  and  her  head  stretch'd  forth. 

On  the  other  side  there  stood  an  aged  Crone, 


Or?  *l 


Listening  to  every  breath  of  air ;  she  knew 
Vague  suppositions  and  uncertain  dreams, 
Of  what  was  soon  to  come,  for  she  would  mark 
The  little  glow-worm's  self-created  light, 
And  argue  thence  of  kingdoms  overthrow n, 
And  desolated  nations  ;  ever  fill'd 
With  undetermin'd  terror,  as  she  heard 
Or  distant  screech-owl,  or  the  regular  beat 
Of  evening  death-watch. 

"  Maid,"  the  Spirit  cried, 
t(  Here,  robed  in  shadows,  dwells  Futurity. 
u  There  is  no  eye  hath  seen  her  secret  form, 
"  For  round  the  Mother  of  Time,  eternal  mists 
"  Hover.     If  thou  woukTst  read  the  book  of  Fate, 
M  Go  in  !" 

The  Damsel  for  a  moment  paus'd, 
Then  to  the  Angel  spake  :   "  All-gracious  Heaven  ! 
"  Benignant  in  withholding,  hath  denied 
"  To  man  that  knowledge.     I,  in  faith  assured, 
"  That  he,  my  heavenly  Father,  for  the  best 
n  3 


274 

i#  Ordaineth  all  things,  in  that  faith  remain 
"  Contented." 

"  Well  and  wisely  hast  thou  said/* 
So  Theodore  replied  ;  €(  and  now  O  Maid  ! 
94  Is  there  amid  this  boundless  universe 
94  One  whom  thy  soul  would  visit  ?  is  there  place, 
99  To  memory  dear,  or  visioned  out  by  hope, 
99  Where  thou  would'st  now  be  present?  form  the 

49  wish, 
4t  And  I  am  with  thee,  there." 

His  closing  speech 
Yet  sounded  on  her  ear,  and  lo  !  they  stood 
Swift  as  the  sudden  thought  that  guided  them, 
Within  the  little  cottage  that  she  loved. 
"  He  sleeps !  the  good  man  sleeps  V*  enrapt  she  cried, 
As  bending  o'er  her  Uncle's  lowly  bed 
Her  eye  retraced  his  features.     "  See  the  beads 
"  That  never  morn  nor  night  he  fails  to  tell, 
"  Remembering  me,  his  child,  in  every  prayer. 
"  Oh  !  quiet  be  thy  sleep,  thou  dear  old  man  I 


%75 

44  Good  Angels  guard  thy  rest!  and  when  thine  hour 

"  Is  come,  as  gently  mayest  thou  wake  to  life, 

<c  As  when  thro'  yonder  lattice  the  next  sun 

u  Shall  bid  thee  to  thy  morning  orisons !" 

"  Thy  voice  is  heard,"  the  Angel  guide  rejoin'd, 

"  He  sees  thee  in  his  dreams,  he  hears  thee  breathe 

"  Blessings,  and  happy  is  the  good  man's  rest. 

"  Thy  fame  has  reached  him,   for  who  has  not  heard 

"  Thy  wonderous  exploits  ?   and  his  aged  heart 

"  Hath  felt  the  deepest  joy  that  ever  yet 

"  Made  his  glad  blood  flow  fast.  Sleep  on  old  Claude ! 

"  Peaceful,  pure  Spirit,  be  thy  sojourn  here, 

(i  And  short  and  soon  thy  passage  to  that  world 

"  Where  friends  shall  part  no  more  ! 

"  Does  thy  soul  own 
u  No  other  wish  ?  or  sleeps  poor  Madelon 
«  Forgotten  in  her  grave  ?  seest  thou  yon  star," 
The  Spirit  pursued,  regardless  of  her  eye 
That  look'd  reproach ;  "  seest  thou  that  Evening  star 
"  Whose  lovely  light  so  often  we  beheld 
n4 


276 

•'  From  yonder  woodbine  porch  >  how  have  we  gazed' 

"  Into  the  dark  deep  sky,  till  the  baffled  soul, 

"  Lost  in  the  infinite,  returned,  and  felt 

"  The  burthen  of  her  bodily  load,  and  yearned* 

u  For  freedom  !  Maid,  in  yonder  evening  star 

«  Lives  thy  departed  friend.     I  read  that  glance, 

*'  And  we  are  there  \" 

He  said  and  they  had  past 
The  irnmeasureable  space. 

Then  on  her  ear 
The  lonely  song  of  adoration  rose, 
Sweet  as  the  cloistered  virgins  vesper  hymn, 
Whose  spirit,  happily  dead  to  earthly  hopes,. 
Already  lives  in  Heaven  *     Abrupt  the  song 
Ceas'd,  tremulous  and  quick  a  cry 
Of  joyful  wonder  rous'd  the  astonish'd  Maid, 
And  instant  Madelon  was  in  her  arms  \ 
No  airy  form,  nor  unsubstantial  shape, 
She  felt  her  friend,  she  prest  her  to  her  heart,. 
Their  tears  of  rapture  mingled. 


277 

She  drew  back 
And  eagerly  she  gazed  on  Madelon, 
Then  fell  upon  her  neck  again  and  wept. 
No  more  she  saw  the  long-drawn  lines  of  grief, 
The  emaciate  form,  the  hoe  of  sickliness. 
The  languid  eye  :  youth's  loveliest  freshness  now 
Mantled  her  cheek,  whose  every  lineament 
Bespake  the  soul  at  rest,  a  holy  calm, 
A  deep  and  full  tranquillity  of  bliss. 

"  Thou  then  art  come,  my  first  and  dearest  friend  !" 

The  well  knovvn  voice  of  Madelon  began, 

c<  Thou  then  art  come  !  and  was  thy  pilgrimage 

M  So  short  on  earth  ?  and  was  it  painful  too, 

"  Painful  and  short  as  mine  ?  but  blessed  they 

"  Who  from  the  crimes  and  miseries  of  the  world 

"  Early  escape  !" 

"  Nay,"  Theodore  replied, 
"  She  hath  not  yet  fulrill'd  her  mortal  work. 
"  Permitted  visitant  from  earth  she  comes 
n5 


278 

"  To  see  the  seat  of  rest,  and  oftentimes 

"  In  sorrow  shall  her  soul  remember  this, 

(<  And,  patient  of  her  transitory  woe, 

"  Partake  the  anticipated  peace  again." 

"  Soon  be  that  work  perform'd !"  the  Maid  exclaimed, 

u  O  Madelon  !  O  Theodore  !  my  soul, 

u  Spurning  the  cold  communion  of  the  world, 

n  Will  dwell  with  you  !  but  I  shall  patiently, 

u  Yea  even  with  joy,  endure  the  allotted  ills 

"  Of  which  the  memory  in  this  better  state 

*«  Shall  heighten  bliss.     That  hour  of  agony, 

•*  When,  Madelon,  I  felt  thy  dying  grasp, 

"  And  from  thy  forehead  wiped  the  dews  of  death, 

u  The  very  horrors  of  that  hour  assume 

"  A  shape  that  now  delights." 

"  O  earliest  friend  ! 
**  I  too  remember,"  Madelon  replied, 
"  That  hour,  thy  looks  of  watchful  agony, 
"  The  supprest  grief  that  struggled  in  thine  eye 
"  Endearing  love's  last  kindness.    Thou  did'st  know 


279 

te  With  what  a  deep  and  melancholy  joy 

"  I  felt  the  hour  draw  on  :  but  who  can  speak 

"  The  unutterable  transport,  when  mine  eyes, 

1 '  As  from  a  long  and  dreary  dream,  unclosed 

(<  Amid  this  peaceful  vale,  unclos'd  upon 

<c  My  Arnaud  !  he  had  built  me  up  a  bower, 

cs  A  bower  of  rest. — See,  Maiden,  where  he  comes, 

"  His  manly  lineaments,  his  beaming  eye 

"  The  same,  but  now  a  holier  innocence 

<f  Sits  on  his  cheek,  and  loftier  thoughts  illume 

"  The  enlighten 'd  glance." 

They  met,  what  joy  was  theirs 
He  best  can  feel,  who  for  a  dear  friend  dead 
Hath  wet  the  midnight  pillow  with  his  tears. 

Fair  was  the  scene  around  5  an  ample  vale 
Whose  mountain  circle  at  the  distant  verge 
Lay  soften'd  on  the  sight }  the  near  ascent 
Rose  bolder  up,  in  part  abrupt  and  bare, 
Part  with  the  ancient  majesty  of  woods 
n  6 


280 

Adorn'd,  or  lifting  high  its  rocks  sublime. 

The  river's  liquid  radiance  roll'd  beneath, 

Beside  the  bower  of  Madelon  it  wound 

A  broken  stream,  whose  shallows,  tho*  the  waves. 

Roll'd  on  their  way  with  rapid  melody, 

A  child  might  tread.     Behind,  an  orange  grove 

Its  gay  green  foliage  starr'd  with  golden  fruit ; 

But  with  what  odours  did  their  blossoms  load 

The  passing  gale  of  eve  !  less  thrilling  sweet 

Rose  from  the  marble's  perforated  floor, 

Where  kneeling  at  her  prayers,  the  Moorish  queen, 

Inhaled  the  cool  delight,*  and  whilst  she  asked 

The  Prophet  for  his  promised  paradise, 


*  In  the  cabinet  of  the  Alhambra  where  the  Queen  used  to 
dress  and  say  her  prayers,  and  which  is  still  an  enchanting 
sight  there  is  a  slab  of  marble  full  of  small  holes,  through 
which  perfumes  exha'ed  that  were  kept  constantly  burning 
beneath.  The  doors  and  windows  are  disposed  so  as  to 
afford  the  most  agreeable  prospects,  and   to   throw  a  soft  yet 


281 

Shaped  from  the  present  scene  its  utmost  joys. 
A  goodly  scene  !  fair  as  that  faery  land 
Where  Arthur  lives,  by  ministering  spirits  borne 
From  Camlan's  bloody  banks ;  or  as  the  groves 
Of  earliest  Eden,  where,  so  legends  say, 
Enoch  abides,  and  he  who  rapt  away 
By  fiery  steeds,  and  chariotted  in  fire, 
Past  in  his  mortal  form  the  eternal  ways ; 
And  John,  beloved  of  Christ,  enjoying  there 
The  beatific  vision,  sometimes  seen 
The  distant  dawning  of  eternal  day,. 
Till  all  things  be  fulfilled. 

"  Survey  this  scene  !" 
So  Theodore  address  d  the  Maid  of  Arc, 


lively  light  upon  the  eyes.  Fresh  currents  of  air  too  are 
admitted,  so  as  to  renew  every  instant  the  delicious  coolness  of 
this  apartment. 

From  the  sketch  of  the  History  of  the  Spanish  Moors,  prefixed 
to  Florian's  Gonsalvo  of  Cordova, 


282 

"  There  is  no  evil  here,  no  wretchedness; 

"  It  is  the  Heaven  of  those  who  nurst  on  earth 

"  Their  nature's  gentlest  feelings.     Yet  not  here 

"  Centering  their  joys,  but  with  a  patient  hope, 

ec  Waiting  the  allotted  hour  when  capable 

u  Of  loftier  callings;  to  a  better  state 

"  They  pass  5  and  hither  from  that  better  state 

t(  Frequent  they  come,  preserving  so  those  ties 

(f  That  thro'  the  infinite  progressiveness 

"  Complete  our  perfect  bliss. 

' ?  Even  such,  so  blest, 
*'  Save  that  the  memory  of  no  sorrows  past 
*'  Heightened  the  present  joy,  our  world  was  once, 
ct  In  the  first  sera  of  its  innocence 
u  Ere  man  had  learnt  to  bow  the  knee  to  man. 
u  Was  there  a  youth  whom  warm  affection  filTd, 
"  He  spake  his  honest  heart  5  the  earliest  fruits 
"  His  toil  produced,  the  sweetest  flowers  that  deck'd 
"  The  sunny  bank,  he  gather'd  for  the  maid 
u  Nor  she  disdain' d  the  giftj  for  Vice  not  yet 


283 

u  Had  burst  the  dungeons  of  her  hell,  and  rear'd 

"  Those  artificial  boundaries  that  divide 

Cf  Man  from  his  species.     State  of  blessedness  ! 

"  Till  that  ill-omen'd  hour  when  Cain's  stern  son 

' '  Delved  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  for  gold, 

"  Accursed  bane  of  virtue  !  of  such  force 

(<  As  poets  feign  dwelt  in  the  Gorgon's  locks, 

u  Which  whoso  saw,  felt  instant  the  life-blood 

94  Cold  curdle  in  his  veins,  the  creeping  flesh 

"  Grew  stiff  with  horror,  and  the  heart  forgot 

**  To  beat.     Accursed  hour  !  for  man  no  more 

"  To  Justice  paid  his  homage,  but  forsook 

"  Her  altars,  and  bow'd  down  before  the  shrine 

"  Of  Wealth  and  Power,   the  Idols  he  had  made. 

"  Then  Hell  enlarged  herself,  her  gates  flew  wide, 

"  Her  legion  fiends  rush'd  forth.   Oppression  came 

"  Whose  frown  is  desolation,  and  whose  breath 

"  Blasts  like  the  Pestilence;  and  Poverty, 

<€  A  meagre  monster,  who  with  withering  touch 

S€  Makes  barren  all  the  better  part  of  man, 


284 

fr  Mother  of  Miseries.     Then  the  goodly  earth 

"  Which  God  had  fram'd  for  happiness,,  became 

tc  One  theatre  of  woe,  and  all  that  God 

u  Had  given  to  bless  free  men,  these  tyrant  fiend* 

<e  His  bitterest  curses  made.     Yet  for  the  best 

"  Hath  he  ordained  all  things,  the  All- wise  ! 

€C  For  by  experience  rous'd  shall  man  at  length 

"  Dash  down  his  Moloch-Idols,  Samson-like* 

i(  And  burst  his  fetters,  only  strong  while  he- 

t€  Fears  for  their  strength.     Then  in  the  deep  abysa 

"  Oppression  shall  be  chain'd,  and  Poverty 

tf  Die,  and  with  her,  her  brood  of  Miseries) 

"  And  Virtue  and  Equality  preserve 

(i  The  reign  of  Love,  and  Earth  shall  once  agafri 

€i  Be  Paradise,  where  Wisdom  shall  secure 

*•'  The  state  of  bliss  which  Ignorance  betrayed." 

(t  Oh  age  of  happiness !"  the  Maid  exclaim'd, 
u  Roll  fast  thy  current  Time  !  till  that  blest  age 
€<  Arrive  !  and  happy  thou  my  Theodore, 


285 

**  Permitted  thus  to  see  the  sacred  depths 
"  Of  wisdom !" 

"  Such,"  the  blessed  Spirit  replied, 
"  Beloved !  such  our  lot  5  allowed  to  range 
"  The  vast  infinity,  progressive  still 
u  In  knowledge  and  encreasing  blessedness, 
"  This  our  united  portion.     Thou  hast  yet 
"  A  little  while  to  sojourn  amongst  men  : 
"  I  will  be  with  thee  !  there  shall  not  a  breez© 
tf  Wanton  around  thy  temples,  on  whose  wing 
"  I  will  not  hover  near  !  and  at  that  hour 
"  When  from  its  fleshly  sepulchre  let  loose, 
"  Thy  phoenix  soul  shall  soar,  O  best-beloved  i 
u  I  will  be  with  thee  in  thine  agonies, 
u  And  welcome  thee  to  life  and  happiness, 
u  Eternal  infinite  beatitude  !" 

He  spake,  and  led  her  near  a  straw- roof  'd  cot, 
Love's  Palace.  By  the  Virtues  circled  there, 
The  cherub  listen'd  to  guch  melodies, 


286 

As  aye,  when  one  good  deed  is  registered 

Above,  re-echo  in  the  halls  of  Heaven. 

Labour  was  there,  his  crisp  locks  floating  loose, 

Clear  was  his  cheek,  and  beaming  his  full  eye, 

And  strong  his  arm  robust  5  the  wood-nymph  Health 

Still  followed  on  his  path,  and  where  he  trod 

Fresh  flowers  and  fruits  arose.  And  there  was  Hope, 

The  general  friend ;  and  Pity,  whose  mild  eye 

Wept  o'er  the  widowed  dove  :  and,  loveliest  form, 

Majestic  Chastity,  whose  sober  smile 

Delights  and  awes  the  soul  j  a  laurel  wreath 

Restrained  her  tresses,  and  upon  her  breast 

The  *snow-drop  hung  its  head,  that  seem'd  to  grow 

Spontaneous,  cold  and  fair :  still  by  the  maid 

Love  went  submiss,  with  eye  more  dangerous 


*  "  The  grave  matron  does  not  perceive  how  time  has  im- 
paired her  charms,  but  decks  her  faded  bosom  with  the 
same  snow-drop  that  seems  to  grow  on  the  breast  of  the 
Virgin*" 

P.  H. 


287 

Than  fancied  basilisk  to  wound  whoe'er 

Too  bold  approached  $  yet  anxious  would  he  read 

Her  every  rising  wish,  then  only  pleased 

When  pleasing.     Hymning  him  the  song  was  raised. 

u  Glory  to  thee  whose  vivifying  power 

"  Pervades  all  Nature's  universal  frame  ! 

"  Glory  to  thee  Creator  Love  !  to  thee, 

u  Parent  of  all  the  smiling  Charities, 

(<  That  strew  the  thorny  path  of  Life  with  flowers  ! 

<(  Glory  to  thee  Preserver  !  to  thy  praise 

"  The  awakened  woodlands  echo  all  the  day 

"  Their  living  melody  5  and  warbling  forth 

u  To  thee  her  twilight  song,  the  Nightingale 

"  Holds  the  lone  Traveller  from  his  way,  or  charms 

"  The  listening  Poet's  ear.     Where  Love  shall  deign 

"  To  fix  his  seat,  there  blameless  Pleasure  sheds 

"  Her  roseate  dews \  Content  will  sojourn  there, 

u  And  Happiness  behold  Affection  s  eye 

"  Gleam  with  the  Mother's  smile.     Thrice  happy  he 


288 

•*  Who  feels  thy  holy  power !  he  shall  not  drag, 

"  Forlorn  and  friendless,  along  Life's  long  path 

ic  To  Age's  drear  abode  ;  he  shall  not  waste 

"  The  bitter  evening  of  his  days  unsooth'd  ; 

"  But  Hope  shall  chear  his  hours  of  Solitude, 

"  And  Vice  shall  vainly  strive  to  wound  his  breast, 

u  That  bears  that  talisman  -,  and  where  he  meets 

**  The  eloquent  eye  of  Tenderness,  and  hear* 

**  The  bosom-thrilling  music  of  her  voice  ; 

(<  The  joy  he  feels  shall  purify  his  Soul, 

"  And  imp  it  for  anticipated  Heaven/ 


THE  END. 


Pnnied  by  Bi^gs  and  Co.  Crane-Court,  Fleet-street 


WORKS, 

BY 

ROBERT  SOUTHEY, 

Printed  for  Longman,  Hurst,  Rees,  and  Orme, 
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