FAR through the shadowy sky the ascending flames
Stream'd 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
Through the red volumes briefer splendours shot, 5
And blacker waves roll'd o'er the darken'd heaven.
Dismay'd amid the forts which yet remain'd
The invaders saw, and clamour'd for retreat,
Deeming that aided by invisible powers
The Maid went forth to conquer. Not a sound 10
Moved on the air but fill'd them with vague dread
Of unseen dangers; if a sudden blast
Arose, through 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,
Exclaim'd, "I marvel not that the Most High
Hath hid his face from England! Wherefore thus Quitting the comforts of domestic life,
Came we to desolate this goodly land.
Making the drench'd earth rank with human blood,
Scatter pollution on the winds of Heaven?
Oh! that the sepulchre had closed its jaws
On the proud prelate, that blood-guilty man,
Who, trembling for the church's ill-got wealth,
Bade our Fifth Henry claim the crown of France !
Oh! that the grave had swallow'd him, ere he
Stirr'd up the sleeping claim, and sent him forth
To slaughter! Sure that holy hermit spake
The Almighty's bidding, who in his career
Of conquest met the King, and bade him cease
The work of death, before the wrath divine
Fell heavy on his head... Full soon it fell
And sunk him to the grave; . . and soon that wrath On us, alike in guilt, 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,
Though here she groan unpitied or unheard,
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 hath raised
This Prophetess, and goes before her path; ..
Our brethren, vainly valiant, fall beneath them,
Clogging with gore their weapons, or in the flood
Whelm'd like the Egyptian tyrant's impious host,
Mangled and swoln, their blacken'd carcasses
Float on the tainted current! We remain,
For yet our rulers will pursue the war,
We still remain to perish by the sword,
Soon to appear before the throne of God,
Conscious, too late, of folly and of guilt,
Uninjured, unprovoked, who dared to risk
The life His goodness gave us, on the chance
Of war, and in obedience to our chiefs
The troops and late repentance; and they thought The spirits of the mothers and their babes Famish'd at Roan sat on the clouds of night,
Circling the forts, to hail with gloomy joy
Heard these loud murmurs heedless; counselling They met despondent. Suffolk, now their chief, 65 Since Salisbury fell, began.
Lightly of this our more than mortal foe
To speak contemptuous. She hath vanquish'd us,
Aided by Hell's leagued powers, nor aught avails
Man unassisted 'gainst Infernal powers
To dare the conflict. Were it best remain
Waiting the doubtful aid of Burgundy,
Doubtful and still delay'd? or from this place,
Scene of our shame, retreating as we may,
Yet struggle to preserve the guarded towns 75 Of the Orleannois ?"
He ceased, and with a sigh, Struggling with pride that heaved his gloomy breast, Talbot replied, “Our council little boots;
The soldiers will not fight, they will not heed
Our vain resolves, heart-wither'd by the spells
Of this accursed sorceress.
Soon will come
The expected host from England; even now
Perchance the tall bark scuds across the deep
That bears my son: young Talbot comes,.. he comes
To find his sire disgraced! But soon mine arm, 86
By vengeance nerved, and shame of such defeat,
Shall from the crest-fall'n courage of yon witch,
Regain its ancient glory. Near the coast
Best is it to retreat, and there expect
Joy ran through all the troops, as though retreat
Were safety. Silently in order'd ranks
They issue forth, favour'd by the thick clouds
Which mantled o'er the moon. With throbbing hearts
Fearful they speeded on; some in sad thoughts 96
Of distant England, and now wise too late,
Cursing in bitterness the evil hour
That led them from her shores; some in faint hope
Thinking to see their native land again;
Talbot went musing on his former fame,
Sullen and stern, and feeding on dark thoughts,
And meditating vengeance.
Of Orleans, though her habitants with joy
Humbly acknowledged the high aid of Heaven, 105 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,
Possess'd 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,
Who came the saviour of the realm of France, 115 When vanquish'd in the frequent field of shame Her bravest warriors trembled.
Fasting and silent to the convent pass'd,
Conrade with her, and Isabel; both mute,
Yet gazing on her oft with anxious eyes,
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 wither'd in its first bloom.
Dissolved in sorrow, Isabel her grief
Pour'd copiously, and Conrade also wept:
Joan only shed no tears, from her fix'd eye 130
Intelligence was absent, and she seem'd,
Though listening to the dirge of death, to hear
And comprehend it not, till in the grave,..
In his last home, now Theodore was laid,
And earth to earth upon the coffin thrown;
Then the Maid started at that mortal sound,
And her lip quiver'd, and on Isabel,
Trembling and faint, she leant, and pale as death.
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