Book the Fifth

Scarce had the earliest ray from Chinon's towers
Made visible the mists that curl'd along
The winding waves of Vienne, when from her couch
Started the martial Maid. She mail'd her limbs;
The white plumes nodded o'er her helmed head;
She girt the temper'd falchion by her side,
And, like some youth that from his mother's arms,
For his first field impatient, breaks away,
Poising the lance went forth.
Twelve hundred men,
Rearing in order'd ranks their well-sharp'd spears,
Await her coming. Terrible in arms
Before them towered Dunois. His manly face
Dark-shadow'd by the helmet's iron cheeks.
The assembled court gaz'd on the marshall'd train,
And at the gate the aged Primate stood
To pour his blessing on the chosen host.
And now a soft and solemn symphony
Was heard; and chaunting high the hallow'd hymn
From the near convent came the vestal maids.
A holy banner, woven by virgin hands,
Snow-white they bore. A mingled sentiment
Of awe, and eager ardor for the fight,
Thrill'd thro' the troops, as he the reverend man
Took the white standard, and with heav'n-ward eye
Call'd on the God of Justice, blessing it.
The Maid, her brows in reverence unhelm'd,
Her dark hair floating on the morning gale,
Knelt to his prayer, and stretching forth her hand
Receiv'd the mystic ensign. From the host
A loud and universal shout burst forth,
As rising from the ground, on her white brow,
She placed the plumed casque, and waved on high
The banner'd lillies. On their way they march,
And dim in distance, soon the towers of Chinon
Fade from the eye reverted.
The third sun,
Purpling the sky with his dilated light,
Sunk westering; when embosom'd in the depth
Of that vast forest, whose prodigious track
Shadows the hills and vales of Orleannois,
They pitch their tents. The hum of occupation
Sounds ceaseless. Waving to the evening gale,
The streamers wanton'; and, ascending slow
Beneath the foliage of the forest trees,
With many a light hue tinged, the curling smoke
Melts in the impurpled air: leaving her tent,
The martial Maiden wander'd thro' the wood.
There, by a streamlet, on its mossy bank
Reclined, she saw a damsel: her long locks
Engarlanded, and as she nearer came,
The Virgin knew it for the willow weed.
Resting his head upon her lap, there lay
A dark-hair'd man, listening as she did sing
Sad ditties, and enwreathe to bind his brow
The melancholy rue. Scar'd at the sound
Of one in arms approaching, she had fled;
But Conrade, looking upward, recogniz'd
The Maid of Arc. "Fear not, poor Isabel,"
He said, "for this is one of gentle kind,
Whom even the wretched need not fear to love."

So saying, he arose and took her hand,
And held it to his bosom. "My fond heart,-
"Tho' school'd by wrongs to loath at human kind,
"Beats high, a rebel to its own resolves.
"Come hither outcast One! and call her friend,
"And she shall be thy friend more readily
"Because thou art unhappy."
Isabel
Saw a tear starting in the Virgin's eye,
And glancing upon Conrade, she too wept,
Wailing his wilder'd senses.
"Mission'd Maid!"
The warrior cried, "be happy! for thy power
"Can make this wanderer so. From Orleans driven,
"Orphan'd by war, and torn away from one
"Her only friend, I found her in the wilds,
"Worn out with want and wretchedness. Thou, JOAN,
"Wilt his beloved to the youth restore.
"And, trust me Maid! the miserable feel
"When they on others bestow happiness
"High joys and soul-ennobling."
She replied,
Pressing the damsel's hand, in the mild tone
Of equal friendship, solacing her cares.
"Soon shall we enter Orleans," said the Maid;
"A few hours in her dream of victory
"England shall triumph; then to be awak'd
"By the loud thunder of Almighty wrath!
"Irksome meantime the busy camp to me
"A solitary woman. Isabel,
"Wert thou the while companion of my tent,
"Lightly the time would pass. Return with me,
"I may not long be absent."
"So she spake.
The Wanderer in half-uttered words express'd
Grateful assent. Art thou, astonish'd Maid,
"That one tho' pow'rful is benevolent?
"In truth thou well mayest wonder!" Conrade cried.
"But little cause to love the mighty ones
"Has the low cottager! for with its shade
"Does Power, a barren death-dew-dropping tree,
"Blast ev'ry herb beneath its baleful boughs!
"Tell thou thy sufferings Isabel! Relate
"How warr'd the chieftains, and the people died.
"The mission'd Virgin hath not heard thy woes,
"And pleasant to my ear the twice-told tale
"Of sorrow."
Gazing on the martial Maid
She read her wish and spake. "Of lowly line
"Not distant far from Jenville, dwelt my sire.
"Two brethren form'd our family of love.
"Humble we were, but happy. Honest toil
"Procur'd our homely sustenance. Our herds
"Duly at morn and evening to my hand
"Gave their full stores. The vineyard he had rear'd
"Purpled its clusters in the southern sun;
"And plenteous produce of my father's toil
"The yellow harvest billowed o'er the plain.
"We were content and envied not the great;
"We fear'd them not, for we were innocent.
"How chearful seated round the blazing hearth
"When all the labour of the day was done,
"We past the ev'ning hours! for they would sing
"Or chearful roundelay, or ditty sad
"Of maid forsaken and the willow weed,
"Or of the doughty Douzeperes of France,
"Some warlike fit, the while my spinning wheel
"Humm'd not unpleasing round!"
"Thus long we lived,
"And happy. To a neighbouring youth my hand
"In holy wedlock soon to be combin'd
"Was plighted. My poor Francis!" Here she paus'd,
"And here she wept awhile.
"We did not dream
"The desolating sword of War would stoop
"To us. But soon as with the whirlwind's speed
"Ruin rush'd round us. Mehun, Clery, fell,
"The banner'd Lion waved on Gergeau's wall,
"Baugenci yielded: soon the foe approach'd
"The towers of Jenville."
"Fatal was the hour
"To luckless Isabel. For from the wall
"The rusty sword was taken, and the shield
"That long had mouldered on the mouldering nail,
"To meet the war repair'd. No more was heard
"The ballad, or the merry roundelay.
"The clattering hammer's clank, the grating file
"Harsh sounded thro' the day a dismal din.
"I never shall forget their mournful sound!

"My father stood encircling his old limbs
"In long forgotten arms. "Come boys," he cried,
"I did not think that this grey head again
"Should bear the helmet's weight! but in the field
"Better to boldly die a soldier's death,
"Than here be tamely butcher'd. My dear girl,
"Go to the Abbey. Here is gold to buy
"The kind protection of the holy church.
"Fare thee well Isabel! if we survive
"And conquer, we shall meet again: if not,
"There is a better world!"
"In broken words
"Lifting his looks to Heav'n! my father breath'd
"His blessing on me. As they strode away,
"My brethren gazed on me and prest my hand
"In silence, for they lov'd their Isabel.
"From the near cottage Francis join'd the troop.
"Then did I look on our forsaken home,
"And almost sob my very soul away!
"For all my hopes of happiness were fled,
"Like a vain dream!"
"Perish these mighty ones,"
"Cried Conrade, "these prime ministers of death,
"Who stalk elated o'er their fields of fame,
"And count the thousands they have massacred,
"And with the bodies of the innocent, rear
"Their pyramid of glory! Perish these,
"The epitome of all the pestilent plagues
"That Egypt knew! who pour their locust swarms
"O'er ravaged realms, and bid the brooks run blood.
"Fear and Destruction go before their path,
"And Famine dogs their footsteps. God of Justice,
"Let not the innocent blood cry out in vain!"

Thus whilst he spake the murmur of the camp
Rose on their ear. First like the distant sound
When the full-foliaged forest to the storm
Shakes its hoarse head. Anon with louder din;
And thro' the opening glade gleamed many a fire.
The Virgin's tent they enter'd. There the board
Was spread. The Wanderer, of the fare partook,
Then thus her tale renew'd.
"Slow o'er the hill
"Whose rising head conceal'd our cot I past,
"Yet on my journey paus'd awhile, and gaz'd,
"And wept — for often had I crost the hill
"With chearful step, and seen the rising smoke
"Of hospitable fire. Alas! no smoke
"Curl'd o'er the melancholy chimneys now.
"Orleans I reach'd. There in the suburbs stood
"The Abbey — and ere long I learnt the fall
"Of Jenville.
"On a day, a soldier ask'd
"For Isabel. Scarce could my faltering feet
"Support me. It was Francis, and alone —
"The sole survivor of the fatal fight!

"And soon the foes approach'd. Impending War
"Soon sadden'd Orleans. There the bravest chiefs
"Assemble. Gallant D'Orval shines in arms,
"And Xaintrailles ransom'd from the captive chain.
"Graville, La Hire, and Thouars, and preserv'd
"When fall'n and. faint, Alencon on the field;
"Verneuil to France so fatal, and releas'd,
"La Fayette from his hard captivity,
"Boussac, Chabannes, and over all renown'd
"The Bastard Orleans.
"These within the town
"Expect the foe. Twelve hundred chosen men
"Well tried in war, uprear the guardian shield
"Beneath their banners. Dreadful was the sight
"Of preparation. The wide suburbs stretch'd
"Along the pleasant borders of the Loire,
"Late throng'd with multitudes, now feel the hand
"Of Ruin. These preventive Care destroys,
"Lest England, shelter'd by the friendly walls,
"Securely should approach. The monasteries
"Fell in the general waste. The holy Monks
"Unwillingly their long-accustom'd haunts
"Abandon, haunts where every gloomy nook
"Call'd to awakened Memory some trace
"Of vision seen, or sound miraculous.
"Trembling and terrified, their noiseless cells
"For the rude uproar of a world unknown,
"The Nuns desert. Their Abbess, more composed,
"Collects her maids around, and tells her beads,
"And pours the timid prayer of piety.
"The citizens with strong and ceaseless stroke
"Dug up the violated earth, to impede
"The foe. The hollow chambers of the dead
"Echoed beneath. The brazen-trophied tomb
"Thrown in the furnace, now prepares to give
"The death it late recorded. It was sad
"To see so wide a waste; the aged ones
"Hanging their heads, and weeping as they went
"O'er the fall'n dwellings of their happier years;
"The stern and sullen silence of the men
"Musing on vengeance: and but ill represt
"The mother's fears as to her breast she clasp'd
"Her ill-doom'd infant. Soon the suburbs lay
"One ample ruin; the huge stones remov'd,
"Wait in the town to rain the storm of death.

"And now without the walls the desolate plain
"Stretch'd wide, a rough and melancholy waste.
"With uptorn pavements and foundations deep
"Of many a ruined dwelling — horrid scene!
"Nor was within less drear. At evening hour
"No more the merry tabor's note was heard,
"No more the aged matron at her door
"Humm'd cheery to her spinning wheel, and mark'd
"Her children dancing to the roundelay.
"It was a hurried, melancholy scene!
"The chieftains strengthening still the massy walls,
"Survey them with the prying eye of fear.
"The eager youth in dreadful preparation
"Strive in the mimic war. Silent and stern
"They urge with fearful haste their gloomy work.
"All day the armourer's busy beat was heard,
"All night it sounded. In the city dwelt
"Such a dead silence of all pleasant sounds,
"As in the forest when the lowering clouds
"Meet, and the deep and hollow wind is heard
"That omens tempest: trembles to its voice
"The grove, and casts a darker gloom around.

"At length the foe approach. The watchman sounds
"His dreadful warning. From the lofty tower
"Of old cathedral I beheld the scene.
"Trembling as when upon some little rock
"Islanded from the not-far-distant shore,
"The shipwreck'd seamen difficultly escap'd
"Stands, and beholds the tide fast rising round.

"With standards proudly waving to the breeze,
"Onward they move. The clarions breathe aloud
"Their martial clangor, and the chearful fife,
"According to the thundering drum's deep sound,
"Directs their measur'd march. Before the ranks
"Stalks the stern form of Salisbury, the scourge
"Of France; and Talbot towered by his side,
"Talbot, at whose dread name the froward child
"Clings mute and trembling to his nurse's breast.
"Suffolk was there, and Hungerford, and Scales,
"And Fastolffe, victor in the frequent fight.
"Dark as the autumnal storm they roll'd along,
"That big with ruin chills the blacken'd vale;
"A countless host! From the high tower I mark'd
"The dreadful scene. — I saw the iron blaze
"Of javelins sparkling to the noontide sun,
"Their banners tossing to the troubled gale,
"And — fearful music — heard upon the wind
"The modulated step of multitudes.

"There in the midst, shuddering with fear, I saw
"The dreadful stores of death. Tremendous roll'd
"Over rough roads the harsh wheels. The brazen tubes
"Flash'd in the sun their fearful splendor far,
"And last the loaded waggons creak'd along.
"An awful scene! that chill'd me as I gaz'd.
"Thus from the black womb of the mutinous sky,
"When the red lightning rushes, and illumes
"With lurid light the cloud-clad hemisphere,
"The traveller speeds across the plain, yet marks
"All fearful as he is, with strange delight,
"The forked flash.
"Meantime, a pensive train,
"The fearful Nuns in sad solemnity
"Pass to the temple. In this hour of ill,
"Earnest of soul they pray to Heav'n for aid."

And now Dunois. for he had seen the camp
Well-order'd, enter'd. "One night more in peace
"England shall rest," he cried, "ere yet the storm
"Bursts on her guilty head! then their proud vaunts
"Forgotten or remember'd to their shame,
"Vainly her chiefs shall curse the hour, when first
"They pitch'd their tents round Orleans."
"Of that siege,"
The Maid of Arc replied, "gladly I hear
"The detail. Isabel proceed; for soon
"Destin'd to rescue that devoted town,
"All that has chanced, the ills she has endur'd,
"I listen, sorrowing for the past, and feel
"High satisfaction at the saviour power
"To me commission'd."
Thus the Virgin spake,
Nor Isabel delayed. "And now more near
"The hostile host advancing pitch their tents.
"Unnumber'd streamers wave, and clamorous shouts,
"Anticipating conquest, rend the air
"With universal uproar. From their camp
"A Herald comes. His garb emblazon'd o'er
"With British lions, and foul blot to France!
"The lilies from the field of Azincour
"In slaughter pluck'd. The summons of the foe
"He brought."
The Bastard interrupting cried,
"I was with Gaucour and the assembled chiefs,
"When by his office privileged and proud
"That Herald spake, as certain of success
"As he had made a league with Victory."
"Nobles of France rebellious! from the chief
"Of yon victorious host, the mighty Earl
"Of Salisbury, now there in place of him
"Your Regent John of Bedford: in his name
"I come, and in our sovereign Lord the King's,
"Henry. Ye know full well our master's claim,
"Incontrovertible to this good realm,
"By right descent, and solemnly confirm'd
"By your late Monarch and our mighty King
"Fifth Henry, in the treaty ratified
"At Troyes, wherein your Monarch did disclaim
"All future right and title to this crown,
"His own exempted, for his son and heirs
"Down to the end of time. This sign'd and seal'd
"At the holy altar, and by nuptial knot
"Of Henry and your Princess, yields the realm,
"Charles dead and Henry, to his infant son
"Henry of Windsor. Who then dares oppose
"My master's title, in the face of God
"Of wilful perjury, most atrocious crime
"Stands guilty, and of flat rebellion 'gainst
"The Lord's anointed. He at Paris crown'd,
"With loud acclaim from duteous multitude
"Thus speaks by me. Deliver up your town
"To Salisbury, and yield yourselves and arms,
"So shall your lives be safe. And — mark his grace!
"If of your free accord, to him you pay
"Due homage as your sovereign Lord and King,
"Your rich estates, your houses shall be safe,
"And you in favour stand, as is the Duke,
"Philip of Burgundy. But — mark me well —
"If obstinately wilful, you persist
"To scorn his proffer'd mercy; not one stone
"Upon another of this wretched town
"Shall then be left. And when the English host
"Triumphant in the dust have trod the towers
"Of Orleans, who survive the dreadful war
"Shall die like traitors by the hangman's hand.
"Ye men of France, remember Caen and Rouen!"

"He ceased. Nor Gaucour for a moment paus'd
"To form reply.
"Herald! to all thy vaunts
"Of English sovereignty let this suffice
"For answer: France will only own as King
"Him whom the people chuse. On Charles's brow
"Transmitted thro' a long and good descent
"The crown remains. We know no homage due
"To English robbers, and disclaim the peace
"Inglorious made at Troyes by factious men
"Hostile to France. Thy master's proffer'd grace
"Meets the contempt it merits. Herald, yes,
"We shall remember Meaux, and Caen, and Rouen.
"Go tell the mighty Earl of Salisbury,
"That as like Blanchard, Gaucour dares his power;
"Like Blanchard, he can mock his cruelty,
"And triumph by enduring. Speak I well
"Ye men of Orleans?"
"Never did I hear
"A shout so universal as ensued
"Of approbation. The assembled host
"As with one voice pour'd forth their loyalty,
"And struck their sounding shields. The towers of Orleans
"Echoed the loud uproar. The Herald went.
"The work of war began."
"A fearful scene,"
Cried Isabel. "The iron storm of death
"Clash'd in the sky. From the strong engines hurl'd
"Huge rocks with tempest force convuls'd the air.
"Then was there heard at once the clang of arms,
"The bellowing cannon's, and the soldier's shout,
"The female's shriek — the affrighted infant's cry:
"The groan of death Discord of dreadful sounds
"That jarr'd the soul!
"Nor while the encircling foe
"Leager'd the walls of Orleans, idly slept
"Our friends. For winning down the Loire its way
"The frequent vessel with provision fraught,
"And men, and all the artillery of death,
"Cheer'd us with welcome succour. At the bridge
"These safely stranded mock'd the foeman's force.
"This to prevent, Salisbury their watchful chief,
"Prepares
"Prepares the amazing work. Around our walls,
"Encircling walls he builds, surrounding thus
"The city. Firm'd with massiest buttresses,
"At equal distance, sixty forts protect.
"The pile. But chief where in the sieged town
"The six great avenues meet in the midst,
"Six castles there he rear'd impregnable,
"With deep-dug moats and bridges drawn aloft,
"Where over the strong gate suspended hung
"The dread portcullis. Thence the gunner's eye
"From his safe shelter could with ease survey
"Intended sally, or approaching aid,
"And point destruction.
"It were long to tell
"And tedious, how with many a bold assault
"The men of Orleans rush'd upon their foes;
"How fell the Tournelles (where in time of peace
"Justice had held her seat, and that strong tower
"That shadowed from the bridge the subject Loire;
"Tho' numb'ring now three thousand daring men,
"Frequent and fierce the garrison repell'd
"Their far out-numbring foes. From ev'ry aid
"Included, they in Orleans groan'd beneath
"All ills accumulate. The shatter'd roofs
"Gave to the midnight dews free passage there.
"And ever and anon with hideous crash
"Some house fell; starting from his scanty rest
"The wearied soldier. Thro' the streets were seen
"The frequent fire, and heaps of dead, in haste
"Piled up and steaming to infected Heaven.
"For ever the incessant storm of death
"Showers down, and shrouded in unwholesome vaults
"The wretched females hide, not idle there,
"Wasting the hours in tears, but all employ'd,
"Or to provide the hungry soldier's meal,
"Or tear their garments to bind up his wounds:
"A sad equality of wretchedness!

"Now came the worst of ills, for Famine came!
"The provident hand deals out its scanty dole,
"Yielding so little a supply to life
"As but protracted death. The loathliest food
"Hunted with eager eye, and dainty deem'd.
"The dog is slain, that at his master's feet
"Howling with hunger lay. With jealous fear,
"Hating a rival's look, each man conceals
"His miserable meal. The famish'd babe
"Clings closely to his dying mother's breast;
"And — horrible to tell! — where, thrown aside
"There lay unburied in the open streets
"Huge heaps of carcasses. The soldier stands
"Eager to seize the carrion crow for food.

"Oh peaceful scenes of childhood! pleasant fields!
"Haunts of my infancy, where I have stray'd
"Tracing the brook along its winding way,
"Or pluck'd the primrose, or with giddy speed
"Chaced the gay butterfly from flower to flower!
"c: Oh days in vain remember'd! how my soul
"Sick with calamity, and the sore ills
"Of hunger, dwelt upon you! quiet home!
"Thinking of you amid the waste of war.
"I could in bitterness have curs'd the Great
"Who made me what I was! a helpless one,
"Orphan'd, and wanting bread!
"And be they curst,"
Conrade exclaim'd, his dark eye flashing rage;
"And be they curst! Oh groves and woodland shades,
"How blest indeed were you, if the iron rod
"Should one day from Oppression's hand be wrench'd
"By everlasting Justice! come that hour
"When in the Sun the Angel of the Lord
"Shall stand and cry to all the fowls of Heaven,
"Gather ye to the supper of your God,
"That ye may eat the flesh of mighty men,
"Of Captains, and of Kings! "Then shall be peace
"When — Author of all ills that flesh endures,
"Oppression, in the bottomless abyss
"Shall fall to rise no more!"
The Maid pursued,
"And now, lest all should perish, was decreed
"That from the town the females and the infirm
"Should, out-cast, seek their fate.
"I may not now
"Recall the moment, when on my poor Francis,
"With a long look I hung! At dead of night,
"Made mute by fear, we mount the secret bark,
"And glide adown the stream with silent oars:
"Thus thrown upon the mercy of mankind.
"I wandered reckless where, till wearied out
"And cold at heart, I laid me down to die:
"So by this warrior found. Him I had known
"And loved, for all loved Conrade who had known him.
"Nor did I feel so pressing the hard hand
"Of want in Orleans, ere he parted thence
"On perilous envoy. For of his small fare" —
"Of this enough," said Conrade, "Holy Maid!
"One duty yet awaits me to perform.
"Orleans her envoy sent me, claiming aid
"From her inactive sovereign. Willingly
"Did I atchieve the hazardous enterprize,
"For Rumour had already made me fear
"The ill that had fallen on me. It remains
"Ere I do banish me from human kind,
"That I re-enter Orleans, and announce
"Thy march. 'Tis night — and hark! how dead a silence!
"Fit hour. to tread so perilous a path!"

So saying Conrade from the tent went forth.