Book the First

War's varied horrors, and the train of ills
That follow on Ambition's blood-stain'd path
And fill the world with woe; of France preserv'd
By maiden hand, what time her chiefs subdued,
Or slept in death, or lingered life in chains,
I sing: nor wilt thou Freedom scorn the song.

Sunk was the sun: o'er all the expanse of air
The mists of evening deepening as they rose
Chill'd the still scene; when thro' the forest gloom,
Rapt on with lightning speed, in vain Dunois
Now check'd with weaker force the unheeded rein,
Now rais'd the unheeded voice. Swift as the storm
Tremendous urges o'er the dangerous cape
His sweeping pinions, rush'd the steed; for deep
The heavy-hanging arrow's barbed point
Gor'd his red flank. Impatient of defeat
Shame and Revenge boil'd in the Bastard's breast.
Adown his batter'd arms the tide of life
Roll'd purpling; soon its grasp the nerveless hand
Relax'd, and faint and fainter wax his limbs.
Dim rolls the shadowy eye — he droops — he falls.
Chill drop the dews of night.
The new-born sun
Refulgent smiles around. From trance reviv'd
In dubious life Dunois unseals his eyes,
And views a Form with mildly-melting gaze
Hang o'er his wounds: loose to the morning breeze
Waved her brown hair, and on her rubied cheek
Hung Pity's crystal gem. Fearful awhile
Lest wandering Fancy's unsubstantial shapes
Had mock'd the vagrant sense, silent he gaz'd,
And gazing wonder'd; o'er his aching soul
Soon Memory rush'd and woke with ruthless hand
Each sleeping care. "O France," he cried, "my country!"
When soft as breeze that curls the summer clouds
At close of day, stole on his ear a voice
Seraphic.
"Son of Orleans! grieve no more.
"His eye not slept, tho' long the All-Just endur'd
"The woes of France; at length his bar'd right arm
"Volleys red thunder. From his veiling clouds
"Rushes the storm, Ruin, and Fear, and Death.
"Take Son of Orleans the relief of Heaven:
"Nor thou the wintry hour of adverse fate
"Deem useless: tho' unhous'd thou roam awhile,
"The keen and icy wind that shivers thee
"Shall brace thine arm, and with stern discipline
"Firm thy young heart for fearless enterprise.
"As who, through many a summer night serene
"Had hover'd round the fold with coward wish;
"Horrid with brumal ice, the fiercer wolf
"From his bleak mountain and his den of snows
"Leaps terrible, and mocks the shepherd's spear."

So spake the delegated Maid. Meantime
From many a potent herb the juice she press'd
Medicinal, and touch'd with lenient hand
Each gaping wound, where life as loath to fly
Sat trembling: not the plants Medea cull'd
On Colchis' plain, nor those ingredients dire
Erichtho mingled on Pharsalia's field,
Making the soul retenant its cold corse,
More potent; thro' his frame with force divine
The subtle spirit ran, and every limb
Fill'd with unwonted vigor; from the ground
On nimble feet he sprang, and knelt, and spake.

"O more than mortal! thou whose powerful hand
"Avails to check the rapid step of Death,
"Snatching his prey even from the open'd grave.
"O Powerful! O Benignant! for myself
"Thus saved, I thank thee; for my country, more;
"Angel of Heaven! for surely thou wilt aid
"My country, and mine arm nerv'd with new life
"Shall on these proud invaders pour the war
"With tenfold fury."
"Son of Orleans, cease;"
With loveliest smile she said, "nor thus misgive
"What Heaven alone can claim. To Heaven return
"The grateful prayer; to Heaven, whose bounteous will
"Me, most unworthy, delegates to wield
"His thunder. Hear Dunois the tale of Her,
"Offspring of frail Mortality, yet doom'd
"To save her country. Lead me to the king,
"And as we journey on, these lips shall tell
"The wonderous work of Fate."
She paus'd: meantime,
As down the steep descent with many a step
They urge their way, her eye with wistful gaze
Views the departing scene; so his last glance
High from the deck the wretched exile sends
To all that life holds dear; the glist'ning tear,
Soften'd her eye and all the Woman reign'd.
Soon the delusion dies; in distance lost
Fades every spot belov'd; the hillock's top,
The oak wide-branching, and the rising smoke
Slow o'er the copse that floated on the breeze
Melt in the morning clouds. She dried the tear,
Then thus:
"Near Harfleur's wall, where rolls the Seine
"Full to the sea his congregated waves,
"Dwelt Albert once. — Seat of my earliest years!

"Still busy Fancy loves with fairy touch
"To paint its faded scenes: even now mine eye
"Darts thro' the past its retrospective glance,
"And calls to view each haunt of sportive youth,
"Each long-lost haunt I lov'd: the woodbin'd wall?
"The jasmine that around the straw-roof'd cot
"Its fragrant branches wreath'd, beneath whose shade
"I wont to sit and mark the setting sun
"And hear the redbreast's lay. Nor far remote
"As o'er the subject landskip round I gaz'd,
"The tow'rs of Harfleur rose upon the view.
"A foreign master holds my father's home!
"I, far away, remember the past years,
"And weep.
"The invader came. High o'er the waves
"Rides the proud armament in dreadful pomp
"That wafted slaughter; to the pebbled shore
"The anxious natives throng, and gaze upon
"The approaching ruin. On the fav'ring gale,
"The banner'd lion floats. Then might be heard,
"(That dreadful emblem of destruction seen,)
"The mother's anguish'd shriek, the old man's groan
"Of deep despondence. Desolate the cot;
"Silent the hamlet haunts of Innocence;
"For the poor villagers remembering all
"Their grandsires told of war, fled wing'd with fear
"To Harfleur's shelter; thither me, yet young,
"(For scarce four summers o'er my head had beam'd
"Their radiance) bore my sire; the well barr'd gate,
"The massy wall, the turrets guarded strength,
"Too fondly wish'd, too fondly deem'd secure.

"Firm on the battlements the natives stand,
"Heedless of Death that rode the iron storm.
"Fire-brands and darts and stones and javelins
"(Vainly destructive) thinn'd the hostile host.
"The intrepid foe rush onward.
"Fourteen years
"Young as I was, have not effaced the scene
"From bleeding memory. The widow's cry
"The shrieks of anguish and the yell of war
"And Death's deep groan, yet vibrate on my heart,
"Yet wake the strings of grief!
"Twere long to tell
"The vast variety of woe that fill'd
"Unhappy Harfleur. Long Estouteville strove,
"Long Gaucour's forceful arm repell'd the foe.
"In vain they strove, for weak were the wide walls
"And few the gallant garrison, worn out
"With days of ceaseless toil, and fearful nights
"Of unseen peril. O'er the wasted town
"The dreadful engines of destruction hurl'd
"Their ponderous ruin: then my father died!
"Spirit of Albert! bend from yon high Heaven

"Thy head; look down — behold thine orphan child!
"She goes to fill her destiny; like thee,
"Leaving domestic joys, in rugged arms.
"To clasp her limbs; — like thee to dare the war,
"To die — yet not inglorious!
"Wild with woe
"O'er my poor father's shatter'd corse I lay,
"And kist his rigid cheek, and tore my vest
"To bind his mangled limbs; nor, now bereft
"Of him the only parent of my youth,
"Fear'd I the horrors that prevail'd around.
"Suddenly all was still: anon burst forth
"The shout of conquest: from their long lov'd homes
"Thrust forth, the unhappy natives wander o'er
"The wasted plain, in want and wretchedness.
"Feebly I followed; one who knew and lov'd
"My fallen father, sav'd his helpless child.
"Long time he journeyed on in hopes to gain
"Beyond old Arden, in his sister's home
"A safe asylum; and we now had reach'd
"The wood, with many a painful day's hard toil,
"When by the rankling wound that prey'd upon him
"Worn out, he fell.
"My agonizing shrieks
"Pierced thro' the forest, and a holy man
"Drew near: he bore him to his rock-roof'd cell,
"And many a precious balm, and virtuous herb
"The aged leech applied; his earthly cares
"Were fruitless, for worn nature sunk to rest.
"Yet of a Judge, all just, all merciful,
"A God of Love, inspir'd the hermit told,
"And solaced his departing soul with strains
"Of sweetest piety, and bade it rise
"On Faith's strong wings to Heaven. Thus, once again
"Bereav'd of friends, the sport of adverse fate,
"On his turf'd grave I pour'd the orphan tear.

"Rude was Bizardo's cell; the beetling rock
"Frown'd o'er its ivied entrance; the hewn stone
"Form'd his rough seat, and on a bed of leaves
"The aged hermit took his nightly rest.
"A pure stream welling from the mossy rock
"Crept murmuring thro' the wood, and many a flow'r
"Drank on its side the genial sap of life.
"The rich soil wasted not in worthless weeds
"Its nurture; for Bizardo's patient hand
"Cultur'd each healing and salubrious herb;
"And every fruit that courts the summer sun
"Bloom'd for the holy hermit's blameless food.
"Oft would the sage exclaim "ah why mould Man
"Stern tyrant of the field, with blood pollute
"His festive board! Nature has spread around
"The unguilty food of life abundantly.
"How frolic in the sun yon little fawn
"Strains his young limbs; now browzes the sweet grass,
"Now o'er the plain leaps lightly; that man's heart
"Were hard and alien from humanity
"Who could endure to gore his innocent side!
"Sport on poor forester! sport on secure,
"Fearless of one by hard misfortune school'd
"To feel for others."
"Here my infant years
"Roll'd on at length in peace; he taught my knees
"To bend in prayer to that all-gracious God
"Whose parent power had call'd me into life;
"And who, from every perilous chance preserv'd,
"Had to the friendless orphan given a friend.
"Of every herb that blooms amid the grove,
"Or on the high cliff drinks a purer air
"He bade me know the virtue; with the morn
"Up from the homely couch we rose to pour
"The soul expanding prayer: his eyes would beam
"Seraphic rapture, as with eloquent tongue
"He told the works of Heaven to thankless man.
"How from the womb of darkness nature rose
"Refulgent: at the Godhead's high command
"How matter teem'd with life: the Earth put forth
"Her various stores: the groves of Paradise
"Gave their mild echoes to the choral song
"Of new-born beings: and the last best work
"Form'd in God's image, reared the lordly face
"To Heaven. But when Bizardo told how man
"Fell from perfection, from angelic state,
"Plung'd deep in sin, and pluck'd the fruit of woe,
"And bow'd the knee to fiends, and mock'd at God,
"'Till Christ expiring on the sacred cross
"Pour'd forth the atoning life; the tears ran down
"His aged cheeks with woe-mixt gratitude.

"Forgive the prolix tale! Oh I could dwell
"For ever thus; for weeks, and months, and years,
"Roll'd undistinguish'd down the stream of Time,
"'Till fourteen summers smiling o'er my head
"Saw my young mind rich with the precious lore
"Of virtue, and the leeches healing art
"By him — the good man — taught.
"One morn it chanc'd,
"As wandering thro' the wilds my steps stray'd on,
"And from the high grass brushed the morning dew,
"The track of blood alarm'd me; void of fear,
"For the innocent fear little; eagerly
"I traced the stain, thinking some mangled fawn
"Or lamb had from the savage wolf escap'd,
"And I might haply heal its bleeding wounds.
"It led me where outstretch'd on the red earth
"There lay a youth wounded, and faint; his hair
"Clotted with gore; fast from his side stream'd out
"The blood; on his pale cheek the cold dews stood,
"And from his hand the blood-stain'd sword had fall'n.
"Fearful to leave, yet impotent alone
"To bear him to our cell — my echoing voice
"Calls on Bizardo's aid; he heard; our hands
"Enwove the osier car; the cave receives
"The senseless stranger.
"O'er his couch I bent
"With pious vigilance and fearful hope,
"Watching the wounded man till fugitive life
"Dubious return'd. His eyes gazed wistful round
"And e're again the heavy lids closed on them
"Beam'd languid gratitude. Long time elapsed
"E're thro' his frame the temperate current roll'd
"Of former strength: for deeply had he felt
"The ruffian's sword, and distant many a league
"Domremi lay the stranger's native home.

"Scarce eighteen years had nerv'd the stripling's arm;
"Yet Theodore had view'd each deathful scene:
"And oft the tear from his averted eye
"He dried; mindful of fertile fields laid waste,
"Dispeopled hamlets, the lorn widow's groan,
"And the pale orphan's feeble cry for bread.
"But when he told of those fierce sons of guilt
"That o'er this earth which God had fram'd so fair
"Spread desolation, and its wood-crown'd hills
"Make echo to the merciless war dog's howl;
"And how himself from such foul savagery
"Had scarce escap'd with life, then his stretch'd arm
"Seem'd, as it wielded the resistless sword
"Of Vengeance: in his eager eye the soul
"Was eloquent; warm glow'd his manly cheek;
"And beat against his side the indignant heart.

"Meantime autumnal gales had swept the grove,
"And to the cold blast now the sullen oak
"Spread his unfoliag'd arms; the cloud-clad sky
"Frown'd o'er the drear and melancholy scene.
"At length the snows fell fast, and drifting deep
"Choak'd up the road; yet felt not Theodore
"One tedious hour of all the live-long day.
"Oh! he would sit and mark the driving storm,
"Whilst o'er the high-heap'd hearth, of a bad world
"And of the woes that Man creates for Man
"He told. Then gazing round our peaceful cell,
"Here (he would cry) let Theodore remain,
"Till at the last his wasted lamp of life
"Gently go out."
"Yet were not then the hours
"Devoid of sorrow; for our anxious eyes
"Beheld Bizardo waining to the tomb.
"In the full of years he sunk: his eyes grew dim,
"And on the bed of leaves his feeble frame
"Lay helpless. Patiently did he endure,
"In faith anticipating blessedness,
"Already more than Man in that dread hour

"When Man is meanest. His were the best joys
"The pious know, and his last prayer was praise.
"I saw him die: I saw the dews of Death
"Starting on his cold brow: I heard him then
"Pour out a blessing on me Son of Orleans!
"I would not wish to live to know that hour,
"When I could think upon a dear friend dead,
"And weep not.
"Aching at the heart we delv'd
"The narrow house, and o'er the inearthed corse
"Heapt we the grass-green sod.
"The spring came on;
"I felt a pang that may not be express'd,
"Leaving that little cell where many a year
"Had past in peace. We journeyed on our way,
"Seeking the distant home of Theodore;
"And at the last saw o'er the budding copse
"The curling smoke rise slow: onward he speeds
"Elate of heart. The watch dog with hoarse bark
"Announc'd the coming guest; then, wild with joy
"Soon as Remembrance spake his long-lov'd Lord,
"Fawn'd on his feet and howl'd with ecstasy.
"'Twas happiness indeed, one face of bliss
"Shines thro' the house: the eager plough-man quits
"The labouring team, for Theodore is come.
"Fast down his mother's cheek roll'd the warm tear
"Of transport, to her breast she claspt her child,
"Long wept as one no more; nor me forgot,
"But welcomed me even with a mother's smile.
"Here past my unruffled days. Sometimes at morn
"With pleasing toil to drive the woolly flock
"To verdant mead or stream, sometimes to ease
"The lowing cattle of their milky load,
"My grateful task; as with a parent's love
"Would Eleanor partake each peaceful hour.
"Hours of delight, ye are for ever gone!
"I shall no more with chearful toil prepare
"The rural cates for high solemnity
"At holy hour; no more amid the dance
"Move in brisk measures with the blameless train.
"The cot's calm quiet and the village sports
"These leave I willingly, these do I change
"For the camp's din, the clangor of the war,
"The pomp of slaughter: such the high command
"Of Duty; that command I shall obey.

"Dunois! I dwelt in happiness, my soul
"Slumber'd; and never feeling wretchedness
"I never dreamt of what the wretched feel.
"The night was comfortless; the loud blasts howl'd,
"And as we sat around the social hearth
"We heard the rain beat hard: driven by the storm
"A warrior mark'd our distant taper's light.
"We heapt the fire: the friendly board was spread:
"The bowl of hospitality went round.
"The storm beats hard," the stranger cried "safe hous'd
"Pleasant it is to hear the pelting rain.
"I too were well content to dwell in peace,
"Resting my head upon the lap of Love,
"But that my country calls. When the winds roar,
"Remember sometimes what a soldier suffers,.
"And think of Conrade."
"Theodore replied,
"Success go with thee. Something I have seen
"Of war, and of its dreadful ravages.
"My soul was sick at such ferocity;
"And I am well content to dwell in peace
"Albeit inglorious, thanking that good God
"Who made me to be happy."
"Did that God"
"Cried Conrade, "form thy heart for happiness
"When Desolation royally careers
"Over thy wretched country? did that God
"Form thee for peace when Slaughter is abroad,
"When her brooks run with blood, and Rape, and Murder,
"Stalk thro' her flaming towns? live thou in peace
"Young man! my heart is fleshly: I do feel
"For what my brethren suffer."
"As he spake,
"Such mingled passions charactered his face
"Of fierce and terrible benevolence,
"That I did tremble as I listened to him.
"Then in mine heart tumultuous thoughts arose
"Of high atchievements, indistinct. and wild,
"And vast, yet such they were that I did pant
"As tho' by some divinity possess'd.

"But is there not some duty due to those
"We love?" said Theodore; and as he spake
"His warm cheek crimson'd. "Is it not most right
"To cheer the evening of declining age,
"With filial tenderness repaying thus,
"Parental love?"
"Hard is it," Conrade cried
"Aye, very hard, to part from those we love;
"And I have suffer'd that severest pang.
"My Agnes! I have left an aged mother;
"I have left one, on whom my fond heart doats
"With love unutterable. Should I live
"'Till France shall see the blessed hour of Peace,
"I shall return. My heart will be content,
"My highest duties will be well discharg'd
"And I may dare be happy. There are those
"Who deem these thoughts wild fancies of a mind
"Strict beyond measure, and were well content
"If I should soften down my rigid nature
"Even to inglorious ease, to honor me.
"But pure of heart and high of self-esteem
"I must be honored by myself. All else,
"The breath of Fame, is as the unsteady wind
"Worthless."
"So saying from his belt he took
"The encumb'ring sword. I held it, list'ning to him,
"And wistless what I did, half from the sheath
"Drew the well-temper'd blade. I gaz'd upon it
"And shuddering, as I felt its edge, exclaim'd,
"It is most horrible with the keen sword
"To gore the finely-fibred human frame!
"I could not strike a lamb.
"He answer'd me
"Maiden thou hast said well. I could not strike
"A lamb. But when the invader's savage fury
"Spares not grey age, and mocks the infant's shriek
"As he does writhe upon his cursed lance,
"And forces to his foul embrace, the wife
"Even on her murder'd husband's gasping corse!
"Almighty God! I mould not be a man
"If I did let one weak and pitiful feeling
"Make mine arm impotent to cleave him down.
"Think well of this young Man" he cried and seiz'd
"The hand of Theodore; "think well of this
"As you are human, as you hope to live
"In peace, amid the dearest joys of home;
"Think well of this: you have a tender mother,
"As you do wish that she may die in peace,
"As you would even to madness agonize
"To hear this maiden call on you in vain
"For aid, and see her dragg'd, and hear her scream
"In the blood-reeking soldier's lustful arms.
"Think that there are such horrors; that even now!
"Some city flames, and haply as in Rouen
"Some famish'd babe on his dead mother's breast
"Yet hangs for food. Oh God! I would not lose
"These horrible feelings tho' they tear mine heart."

"When we had all betaken us to rest,
"Sleepless I lay, and in my mind revolv'd
"The high-soul'd Warrior's speech. Then rose the thought
"Of all the miseries that my early youth
"Had seen in that beleager'd city, where
"Death never rested, and the morning sun
"Made steam the fearful havoc of the night;
"'Till at the break of day I slept; nor then
"Repos'd my heated brain; for to my view-
"Arose strange forms, sent as I do believe
"From the Most High. I saw a town hemm'd in
"Like Harfleur, round with enemies begirt,
"Where Famine on a heap of carcasses
"Half envious of the unutterable feast
"Mark'd the gorg'd raven clog his beak with gore.
"I turn'd me then to the besieger's camp,
"And there was revelry: the loud lewd laugh
"Burst on mine ears, and I beheld the chiefs
"Even at their feast plan the device of Death.
"My soul grew sick within me: then methought
"From a dark lowering cloud, the womb of tempests,
"A giant arm burst forth, and dropt a sword
"That pierc'd like lightning thro' the midnight air.
"Then was there heard a voice, which in mine ear
"Shall echo, at that hour of dreadful joy
"When the pale foe shall wither in my rage.

"From that night I could feel my burthen'd soul
"Heaving beneath incumbent Deity.
"I sat in silence, musing on the days
"To come. Anon my raptur'd eye would glance
"A wild prophetic meaning. I have heard
"Strange voices in the evening wind. Strange forms
"Dimly discovered throng'd the twilight air.
"They wondered at me who had known me once
"A chearful careless damsel. I have seen
"Theodore gaze upon me wistfully
"'Till he did weep. I would have told him all
"The mighty future labouring in my breast,
"But that methought the hour was not yet come.

"At length I heard of Orleans, by the foe
"Wall'd in from human succour; to the event
"All look'd with fear, for there the fate of France
"Hung in the balance. Now my troubl'd soul
"Grew more disturb'd, and shunning every eye,
"I lov'd to wander where the forest shade
"Frown'd deepest; there on mightiest deeds to brood
"Of shadowy vastness, such as made my heart
"Throb fast. Anon I paus'd, and in a state
"Of half expectance listen'd to the wind.

"Last evening lone in thought I wandered forth.
"Down in the dingles depth there is a brook
"That makes its way between the craggy stones
"Murmuring hoarse murmurs. On an aged oak
"Whose root uptorn by tempests overhangs
"The stream, I sat, and mark'd the deep red clouds
"Gather before the wind, whilst the rude dash
"Of waters rock'd my senses, and the mists
"Rose round: there as I gazed, a form dim-seen
"Descended, like the dark and moving clouds
"That in the moon-beam change their shadowy shapes.
"His voice was on the breeze; he bade me hail
"The missioned Maid! for lo! the hour was come.
"Then was the future present to my view,
"And strange events yet in the womb of Time
"To me made manifest. I sat entranc'd
"In the beatitude of heavenly vision.
"At length a wounded courser dropping blood
"Rush'd by me. I arose and sought the spot
"Where thou hadst fallen; there the Most High vouchsaf'd
"That aid miraculous which thou hast known.