Greeting. The aged warrior hath not spared All active efforts to partake your toil,
And serve his country; and though late arrived, He share not in the fame your arms acquire His heart is glad that he is late arrived, And France preserved thus early. He were here. To join your host, and follow the pursuit, But Richemont is his foe. To that high Lord Thus says my master: We, though each to each Be hostile, are alike the embattled sons Of our dear country. Therefore do thou join The conquering troops, and prosecute success; I will the while assault what guarded towns Bedford yet holds in Orleannois: one day, Perhaps the Constable of France may learn He wrong'd Du Chastel.”
Richemont's cheek redden'd, partly with a sense 35
Of shame, and partly anger half supprest. "Say to thy master," eagerly he said, "I am the foe of those court parasites Who poison the King's ear. Our country in the field, I hold Such may Du Chastel prove."
Him who shall serve
my friend:
And pausing as the herald went his way, Turn'd to the Virgin: "If I guess aright, It is not from a friendly tongue's report, That thou hast heard of me."
The unwelcome truth, "Yes, chieftain !" she replied, "Report bespeaks thee haughty, violent,
Suffering no rival, brooking no controul, And executing by unrighteous means The judgements of thine own unlawful will.”
"But hear me, Maid of Orleans !" he exclaim'd: "Should the wolf enter thy defenceless flock, Were it a crime if thy more mighty force Destroy'd the fell destroyer? If thy hand Had slain a ruffian as he burst thy door Prepared for midnight murder, should'st thou feel The weight of blood press heavy on thy soul? I slew the wolves of state, the murderers Of thousands. Joan! when rusted in its sheath The sword of justice hung, blamest thou the man That lent his weapon for the righteous deed?"
Conrade replied, "Nay, Richemont, it were well To slay the ruffian as he burst thy doors; But if he bear the plunder safely thence, And thou should'st meet him on the future day, Vengeance must not be thine: there is the law To punish; and the law alloweth not, That the accuser take upon himself The judge's part; still less doth it allow That he should execute upon the accused Untried, unheard, a sentence, which so given Becomes, whate'er the case, itself a crime.”
"Thou hast said wisely," cried the constable;
"But there are guilty ones above the law,
Men whose black crimes exceed the utmost bound Of private guilt; court vermin that buzz round, And fly-blow the King's ear, and make him waste,
In this most perilous time, his people's wealth And blood; immersed one while in sensual sloth, Heedless though ruin threat the realm they rule; And now projecting some mad enterprize, Sending their troops to sure defeat and shame. These are the men who make the King suspect His wisest, faithfullest, best counsellors;
And for themselves and their dependents, seize 85 All places, and all profits; and they wrest To their own ends the statutes of the land, Or safely break them; thus, or indolent, Or active, ruinous alike to France.
Wisely thou sayest, warrior, that the Law
Should strike the guilty; but the voice of Justice Cries out, and brings conviction as it cries, Whom the laws cannot reach, the dagger should."
The Maid replied, "It seemeth then, O chief, That reasoning to thine own conviction thus, Thou standest self-acquitted of all wrong, Self-justified, yea, self-approved. I ask not Whether this public zeal hath look'd askaunt To private ends; men easily deceive Others, and oft more easily themselves. But what if one reasoning as thou hast done Had in like course proceeded to the act, One of the people, one of low degree, In whom the strong desire of public good
Had grown to be his one sole sleepless thought, 105 A passion, and a madness; raised as high Above all sordid motives as thyself;
Beneath such impulses of rivalry
And such ambitious projects, as perforce Men will impute to thee? had such a man Stood forth the self-appointed minister To execute his own decrees of death, The law on him had rightfully enforced
That sentence, which the Almighty hath enjoin'd Of life for life. Thou, chief, art by thy rank And power exempted from the penalty: What then hast thou exampled,.. right and wrong Confounding thus, and making lawless might The judge in its own quarrel? Trust me, chief, That if a people sorely are oppress'd, The dreadful hour of overthrow will come Too surely and too soon! He best meanwhile Performs the sage's and the patriot's part, Who in the ear of rage and faction breathes The healing words of love."
Thus communed they. Meantime, all panic-struck and terrified,
The English urge their flight; by other thoughts Possess'd than when, elate with arrogance, They dreamt of conquest, and the crown of France At their disposal. Of their hard-fought fields, 130 Of glory hardly-earn'd, and lost with shame, Of friends and brethren slaughter'd, and the fate Threatening themselves, they brooded sadly, now Repentant late and vainly. They whom fear Erst made obedient to their conquering march, 135 Rise on them in defeat, while they retire, Marking their path with ruin, day by day Leaving the weak and wounded destitute To the foe's mercy; thinking of their home,
Though to that far-off prospect scarcely hope 140 Could raise a sickly eye. Oh then what joy Inspired anew their bosoms, when, like clouds Moving in shadows down the distant hill, They saw their coming succours! In each heart Doubt raised a busy tumult; soon they knew The English standard, and a general shout Burst from the joyful ranks: yet came no joy To Talbot: he, with dark and downward brow, Mused sternly, till at length aroused to hope Of vengeance, welcoming his gallant son, He brake a sullen smile.
Welcome young Talbot to thy first of fields. Thy father bids thee welcome, though disgraced, Baffled, and flying from a woman's arm! Yes, by my former glories, from a woman! The scourge of France, the conqueror of men, Flying before a woman! Son of Talbot, Had the winds wafted thee a few days sooner, Thou hadst seen me high in honour, and thy name Alone had scatter'd armies; yet, my son, I bid thee welcome! here we rest our flight, And face again the foe."
So spake the chief; And well he counsell'd: for not yet the sun Had reach'd meridian height, when o'er the plain Of Patay, they beheld the troops of France Speed in pursuit. Soon as the troops of France Beheld the dark battalions of the foe Shadowing the distant plain, a general shout Burst from the expectant host, and on they prest,
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