The foe up-rushing eager to their spoil;
The holy standard waving; and the Maid
Fierce in pursuit. "Speed but this arrow, Heaven!"
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 raised on high
To smite a fugitive; he glanced aside,
Shunning her deadly stroke, and thus received 425
The chieftain's arrow: through his ribs it pass'd,
And cleft that vessel whence the purer blood
Through many a branching channel o'er the frame
Meanders.
"Fool!" the exasperate knight exclaim'd, "Would she had slain thee! thou hast lived too long." 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 through the mail
Pierced to her neck, and tinged its point with blood. "She bleeds! she bleeds!" exulting cried the chief; "The sorceress bleeds! nor all her hellish arts Can charm my arrows from their destin'd course.” Ill-fated man! in vain with eager hand
Placing thy feather'd quarrel in its groove,
Dream'st thou of Joan subdued! She from her neck
Plucking the shaft unterrified, exclaim'd,
“This is a favour! Frenchmen, let us on!
Escape they cannot from the hand of God!"
But Conrade, rolling round his angry eyes,
Beheld the English chieftain as he arm'd
Again the bow; with rapid step he strode;
And Glacidas perceiving his approach,
At him the quarrel turn'd, which vainly sent,
Fell blunted from his buckler.
And lifting high the deadly battle-axe,
Through pouldron and through shoulder deeply driven
Buried it 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
His memory in the records of the foe
Survives.
And now dishearten'd at his fall
The vanquish'd English fly towards the gate,
Seeking the inner court, as yet in hope
To abide a second siege, and with their friends
Find present refuge there. Mistaken men!
The vanquish'd have no friends! defeated thus,
Press'd by pursuit, in vain with eager voice
They call their comrades in the suppliant tones
Of pity now, now with the bitter curse
Of fruitless anger; they indeed within
Fast from the ramparts cast upon the French Beams, stones, and javelins,.. but the gate is barr'd, The huge portcullis down!
Their hopeless hearts: some, furious in despair,
Turn on their foes; fear-palsied some await
The coming death; some drop the useless sword,
And cry for mercy.
Then the Maid of Arc 476
Took pity on the vanquish'd; and she call'd
Aloud, and cried unto the host of France,
And bade them cease from slaughter. They obey'd
The delegated Damsel. Some there were 480
Apart who communed murmuring, and of those
Graville address'd her: " Prophetess! our troops
Are few in number; and to well secure
These many prisoners such a force demands,
As should we spare might shortly make us need
The mercy we bestow; not mercy then,
Rather to these our soldiers, cruelty.
Justice to them, to France, and to our king,
And that regard wise nature hath in each
Implanted of self-safety, all demand
"Foul fall such evil policy!"
The indignant Maid exclaim'd. "I tell thee, chief, GOD is with us! but GoD shall hide his face
From them, short-sighted they, as hard of heart,
Who disregarding all that mitigates,
All that ennobles dreadful war, shed blood
Like water; who in the deceitful scales
Of worldly wisdom, dare to counterpoise
The right with the expedient, and resolve
Without compunction, as the beam inclines
Held in a faultering or a faithless hand.
These men shall live to see their homes again,
Some to be welcomed there with tears of joy
By those who to the latest hour of life
Will in their grateful prayers remember us.
And when that hour shall come to us, that comes
To all, how gladly should we then exchange
Renown however splendid, for the thought
That we have saved one victim from the sword,..
If only one,.. who begs for us from Heaven
That mercy which to others we have shown!"
Turning to Conrade, then she said, "Do thou
Appoint an escort for the prisoners.
Thou need'st not be reminded they are men,
Rather by fortune, or by fate, than choice,
Brought hither from their homes to work our bale,
And for their own not less; but yielded thus
Whom we must neither treat as enemies
Nor trust as friends, but in safe keeping hold,
Both for their own security and ours."
She said: when Conrade cast his eyes around, And saw from man to man where Francis ran, Bidding them spare the vanquish'd; him he hail'd.
"The Maid hath bade me chuse a leader forth
To guard the prisoners; thou shalt be the man;
For thou wilt guard them with due diligence, 526
Yet not forgetful of humanity."
Meantime the garrison of that strong-hold,
Who lest the French should enter, had exposed
Their comrades to the sword, sustain'd the siege
In desperate valour. Fast against the walls
The battering-ram was driven; the mangonels
Plied at the ramparts fast; the catapults
Drove there their dreadful darts; the war-wolfs there
Hurl'd their huge stones; and, through the kindled sky, The engines shower'd their sheets of liquid fire. 536
"Feel ye not, comrades, how the ramparts shake?" Exclaim'd a daring Englishman. "Our foes
In woman-like compassion, have dismiss'd
A powerful escort, weakening thus themselves, 540
And giving us fair hope, in equal field,
Of better fortune. Sorely here annoy'd,
And slaughter'd by their engines from afar,
We perish. Vainly may the soldier boast
Undaunted courage and the arm of strength,
If thus pent up, like some wild beast he falls,
Mark'd for the hunter's arrows. Let us out
And meet them in the battle, man to man,
Either to conquer, or at least to die
A soldier's death."
"Nay, nay.. not so,” replied One of less hopeful courage. "Though they point Their engines here, our archers not in vain Discharge their quarrels. Let the walls and works Still be defended; it will then be time
To meet them in the battle man to man,
When these shall fail us."
Scarcely had he said,
When a huge stone, thrown from some petrary
Smote him upon the breast, and with dismay
Fill'd all around; for as it shattered him,
His blood besprinkled them, and they beheld
His mangled lungs lie quivering.
Of those who trust them to their walls' defence!"
|