459

The triumph. Many a blazing torch they held, Which raised aloft amid the midnight storm Flash'd far a festive light. The Maid advanced; Deep through the sky the hollow thunders roll'd; Innocuous lightnings round the hallowed banner Wreath'd their red radiance.

Through the city gate

Then as the laden convoy pass'd 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

465

Amid the Sogdian desert, where no stream

Wastes on the wild its fertilizing waves.
Fearful alike to pause, or to proceed;

470

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 fertile vale,
Where Oxus roll'd below.

476

Clamours of joy

Echo along the streets of Orleans, wont

479

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

Sad was the scene.

484

In the English forts There all the livelong night

Steal in the straggling fugitives; as when
Past is the storm, and o'er the azure sky
Serenely shines the sun, with every breeze
The waving branches drop their gather'd rain, 490
Renewing the remembrance of the storm.

JOAN OF
OF ARC.

THE SEVENTH BOOK.

STRONG were the English forts, by daily toil
Of thousands rear'd on high, when to ensure
His meditated conquest Salisbury
Resolved from Orleans to shut out all means
Of human succour. Round the city stretch'd
Their line continuous, massy as the wall
Erst by the fearful Roman on the bounds
Of Caledonia raised, when soul-enslaved
The race degenerate fear'd the car-borne chiefs
Who moved from Morven down.

5

Broad battlements

11

15

Crested the bulwark, and safe standing place
For archer or for man-at-arms was there.
The frequent buttress at just distance rose
Declining from its base, and sixty forts
Seem'd in their strength to render all secure.
But loftier and massier than the rest,
As though of some large castle each the keep,
Stood six square fortresses with turrets flank'd,
Piles of unequall'd strength, though now deem'd weak
'Gainst puissance more than mortal. Safely thence

The city, might, himself the while unseen, Through the long opening aim his winged deaths. Loire's waves diverted fill'd the deep-dug moat Circling the whole; a bulwark vast it was

25

As that which round their camp and stranded ships
The Achaians raised, a common sepulchre
Of thousands slaughter'd, and the doom'd death-place
Of many a chief, when Priam's virtuous son
Assail'd them, then in hope, with favouring Jove.

Rad

35

But cowering now amid their sheltering forts 31 Trembled the invading host. Their leader's care In anxious vigilance prepares to ward The assault expected. Rightly he ared The Maid's intent, but vainly did he seek To kindle in their breasts the wonted flame Of valour; for, by prodigies unmann'd, They wait the morn. The soldiers' pride was gone; The blood was on their swords, their bucklers lay Defiled and unrepair'd, they sharpen'd not Their blunted spears, the affrighted archer's hand Relax'd not his bent bow. To them, confused With fears of unknown danger, the long night Was dreadful, but more dreadful dawn'd the day.

40

The morning came; the martial Maid arose; 45 Lovely in arms she moved. Around the gate, Eager again for conquest, throng the troops. High tower'd 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.

50

"Maiden of Arc,"

So as he spake approaching, cried the chief, “Well hast thou proved thy mission, as by words And miracles attested when dismay'd

The grave theologists dismiss'd their doubts,

So in the field of battle now confirm'd.

Yon well-fenced forts protect the fugitives,

55

And seem as in their strength they mock'd our force. Yet must they fall."

The Maid of Orleans.

"And fall they shall!" replied

"Ere the sun be set

The lily on that shattered wall shall wave

60

Triumphant. Men of France! ye have fought well
On yon blood-reeking plain. Your humbled foes
Lurk trembling now behind their massy walls.
Wolves that have ravaged the neglected flock! 65
The Shepherd-the Great Shepherd is arisen!
Ye fly! yet shall not ye by flight escape

His vengeance.

Men of Orleans! it were vain

By words to waken wrath within your breasts.

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Look round! Your holy buildings and your homes— Ruins that choke the way! your populous town

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..
Cast on the mercy of mankind?"

A cry of indignation from the host

She ceased; 76

Burst forth, and all impatient for the war

Demand the signal.

These Dunois arrays