We move not in pursuit, till we have paid
The rites of burial to our countrymen,
And hymn'd our gratitude to that All-just
Who gave the victory. Thou, meantime, dispatch
Tidings to Chinon: let the King set forth,
That crowning him before assembled France,
In Rheims delivered from the enemy,
Then to the gate moved on.
Beheld her coming, and they smote their shields,
And with one voice of greeting bless'd her name
And pray'd her to pursue the flying foe.
She waved her hand, and silently they stood,
Attentive while she spake;..“ Fellows in arms!
We must not speed to joyful victory,
And leave our gallant comrades where they lie,
For dogs, and wolves, and carrion-birds a prey; 330
Ere we advance, let us discharge to them
And as she spake, the thirst of battles dies
In every breast, such awe and love pervade
The listening troops. They o'er the corse-strewn plain
Speed to their sad employment: some dig deep
The house of death; some bear the lifeless load;
Others the while search carefully around,
If haply they may find surviving yet
Some wounded wretches. As they labour thus, 340 They mark far off the iron-blaze of arms;
See distant standards waving on the air,
And hear the clarion's clang. Then spake the Maid
To Conrade, and she bade him haste to espy
The coming army; or to meet their march
With friendly greeting, or if foes they came
With such array of battle as short space
Allow'd: the warrior sped across the plain,
And soon beheld the banner'd lilies wave.
Their chief was Richemont: he when as he heard What rites employed the Virgin, straightway bade His troops assist in burial; they, though grieved At late arrival, and the expected day
Of conquest past, yet give their willing aid :
They dig the general grave, and thither bear 355
English or French alike commingled now,
And heap the mound of death.
There was a little eminence, of old
Raised o'er some honoured chieftain's narrow house. His praise the song had ceased to celebrate,
And many an unknown age had the long grass
Waved o'er that nameless mound, though barren now
Beneath the frequent tread of multitudes.
There elevate, the martial Maiden stood,
Her brow unhelm'd, and floating on the wind 365
Her long dark locks. The silent troops around
Stood thickly throng'd, as o'er the fertile field
Billows the ripen'd corn. The passing breeze
Bore not a murmur from the numerous host,
Such deep attention held them. She began.
Glory to those who in their country's cause Fall in the field of battle! Countrymen,
I stand not here to mourn these gallant men,
Our comrades, nor with vain and idle phrase
Of sorrow and compassion, to console
The friends who loved them. They indeed who fall
Beneath oppression's banner, merit well
Our pity; may the God of Peace and Love
Be merciful to those blood-guilty men
Who came to desolate the realm of France,
To make us bow the knee, and crouch like slaves
Before a foreign master. Give to these,
And to their wives and orphan little-ones
That on their distant father vainly cry
For bread, give these your pity!... Wretched men, Forced or inveigled from their homes, or driven
By need and hunger to the trade of blood;
Or, if with free and willing mind they came,
Most wretched, .. for before the eternal throne
Guilty alike in act and will, they stand.
But our dead comrades for their country fought;
No arts they needed, nor the specious bribes
Of promise, to allure them to this fight,
This holy warfare! them their parents sent,
And as they raised their streaming eyes to Heaven,
Bade them go forth, and from the ruffian's sword
Save their grey hairs: them their dear wives sent out,
Fix'd their last kisses on their armed hands,
And bade them in the battle think they fought
For them and for their children. Thus inflamed,
By every milder feeling, they went forth,
They fought, they conquer'd. To this holy ground The men of Orleans in the days to come
Shall bring their boys, and tell them of the deeds
Their countrymen achieved, and bid them learn 405 Like them to love their country, and like them, Should usurpation pour again its tide
Of desolation, to step forth and stem
Fearless, the furious torrent.
Mourn not for these our comrades! boldly they 410
Fought the good fight, and that Eternal One,
Who bade the Angels harbinger his Word
With Peace on earth,' rewards them. We survive,
Honouring their memories to avenge their fall
Upon the unjust invaders. They may drain
Their kingdom's wealth and lavishly expend
Its blood, insanely thinking to subdue
This wide and populous realm; for easier were it
To move the ancient mountains from their base,
Than on a nation knowing its own strength
To force a foreign yoke. France then is safe.
My glorious mission soon will be fulfill'd,
My work be done. But oh! remember ye,
And in their generation let your sons
Transmit to theirs the all-concerning truth,
That a great people, wrongfully assail'd,
If faithful to themselves, and resolute
In duty to the last, betide what may,..
Although no signs be given, no miracles
Vouchsafed as now, no Prophetess ordain'd,
May yet with hope invincible hold on,
Relying on their courage, and their cause,
And the sure course of righteous Providence.
THUS to the martyrs in their country's cause
The Maiden gave their fame; and when she ceased,
Such murmur from the multitude arose,
As when at twilight hour the summer breeze
Moves o'er the elmy vale. There was not one
Who mourn'd with feeble sorrow for his friend,
Slain in the fight of freedom; or if chance
Remembrance with a tear suffused the
The patriot's joy shone through.
And now the rites Of sepulture perform'd, the hymn to Heaven They chaunted. To the town the Maid return'd, Dunois, with her, and Richemont, and the man Conrade, whose converse most the Virgin loved. They of pursuit and of the future war
Sat communing; when loud the trumpet's voice 15 Proclaim'd a herald's coming.
Such was his errand, "and to thee, Dunois,
Son of the chief he loved, Du Chastel sends
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