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Elate of heart and eager for the fight,
With clamours ominous of victory.

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Thus urging on, one from the adverse host
Advanced to meet them: they his garb of peace
Knew, and they halted as the herald spake
His bidding to the chieftains.
"Sirs!" he cried,

"I bear defiance to you from the Earl
William of Suffolk. Here on this fit ground,
He wills to give you battle, power to power,
So please you, on the morrow."

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"On the morrow

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We will join battle then," replied Dunois,
"And God befriend the right!" Then on the herald
A robe rich-furr'd and broider'd he bestow'd,
A costly guerdon. Through the army spread
The unwelcome tidings of delay; possess'd
With agitating hopes they felt the hours
Pass heavily; but soon the night wain'd on,
And the loud trumpets' blare from broken sleep
Roused them; a second time the thrilling blast
Bade them be arm'd, and at the third long sound
They ranged them in their ranks. From man to man
With pious haste hurried the confessors
To shrive them, lest with souls all unprepared
They to their death might go. Dunois meantime
Rode through the host, the shield of dignity
Before him borne, and in his hand he held
The white wand of command. The open helm
Disclosed that eye which temper'd the strong lines
Of steady valour, to obedient awe

Winning the will's assent. To some he spake
Of late-earn'd glory; others, new to war,

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He bade bethink them of the feats achieved
When Talbot, recreant to his former fame,
Fled from beleaguer'd Orleans. Was there one
Whom he had known in battle? by the hand
Him did he take, and bid him on that day
Summon his wonted courage, and once more
Support his chief and comrade.

Happy he

Who caught his eye, or from the chieftain's lips
Heard his own name! joy more inspiriting

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Fills not the Persian's soul, when sure he deems 210
That Mithra hears propitiously his prayer,

And o'er the scattered cloud of morning pours
A brighter ray responsive.

Then the host

Partook due food, this their last meal belike

Receiving with such thoughtful doubts as make 215
The soul, impatient of uncertainty,

Rush eager to the event; being thus prepared,
Upon the grass the soldiers laid themselves,
Each in his station, waiting there the sound
Of onset, that in undiminish'd strength
Strong, they might meet the battle; silent some
Pondering the chances of the coming day,
Some whiling with a careless gaiety

The fearful pause of action.

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Thus the French

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In such array and high in confident hope

Await the signal; whilst with other thoughts,
And ominous awe, once more the invading host
Prepare them in the field of fight to meet
The Prophetess. Collected in himself

Appear'd the might of Talbot. Through the ranks

He stalks, reminds them of their former fame, 231
Their native land, their homes, the friends they loved,
All the rewards of this day's victory.

But awe had fill'd the English, and they struck
Faintly their shields; for they who had beheld 235
The hallowed banner with celestial light
Irradiate, and the mission'd Maiden's deeds,
Felt their hearts sink within them, at the thought
Of her near vengeance; and the tale they told
Roused such a tumult in the new-come troops, 240
As fitted them for fear. The aged Earl
Beheld their drooping valour, and his brow,
Wrinkled with thought, bewray'd his inward doubts:
Still he was firm, though all might fly, resolved
That Talbot should retrieve his old renown,
And end his life with glory. Yet some hope
Inspired the veteran, as across the plain
Casting his eye, he mark'd the embattled strength
Of thousands; archers of unequalled skill,
Brigans and pikemen, from whose lifted points 250
A fearful radiance flash'd, and young esquires,
And high-born warriors, bright in blazon'd arms.

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Nor few, nor fameless were the English chiefs. In many a field victorious, he was there, The garter'd Fastolffe; Hungerford, and Scales, Men who had seen the hostile squadrons fly Before the arms of England; Suffolk there, The haughty chieftain tower'd; blest had he fallen Ere yet a courtly minion he was mark'd By public hatred, and the murderer's guilt! There too the son of Talbot, young

in arms,

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Heir of a noble race and mighty name :
At many a tilt and tournament had he
Approved his skill and prowess; confident
In strength, and jealous of his future fame,
His heart beat high for battle. Such array
Of marshall'd numbers fought not on the field
Of Cressy, nor at Poictiers; nor such force
Led Henry to the fight of Agincourt
When thousands fell before him.

Onward move

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The host of France. It was a goodly sight
To see the embattled pomp, as with the step
Of stateliness the barded steeds came on,.
To see the pennons rolling their long waves
Before the gale, and banners broad and bright 275
Tossing their blazonry, and high-plumed chiefs
Vidames and Seneschalls and Chastellains,
Gay with their bucklers' gorgeous heraldry,
And silken surcoats to the mid-day sun
Glittering.

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And now the knights of France dismount, For not to brutal strength they deem'd it right To trust their fame and their dear country's weal; Rather to manly courage, and the glow Of honourable thoughts, such as inspire Ennobling energy. Unhorsed, unspurr'd, Their javelins shorten'd to a wieldy length, They to the foe advanced. The Maid alone, Conspicuous on a coal-black courser, meets The war. They moved to battle with such sound As rushes o'er the vaulted firmament,

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When from his seat, on the utmost verge of heaven

That overhangs the void, the Sire of Winds,
Hræsvelger starting, rears his giant bulk,
And from his eagle pinions shakes the storm.

High on her stately steed the martial Maid 295 Rode foremost of the war; her burnish'd arms Shone like the brook that o'er its pebbled course Runs glittering gayly to the noon-tide sun. The foaming courser, of her guiding hand Impatient, smote the earth, and toss'd his mane, And rear'd aloft with many a froward bound, Then answered to the rein with such a step, As, in submission, he were proud to show His spirit unsubdued. Slow on the air

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Waved the white plumes that shadow'd o'er her helm. Even such, so fair, so terrible in arms,

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An English knight, who eager for renown
Late left his peaceful mansion, mark'd the Maid.
Her power miraculous and portentous deeds
He from the troops had heard incredulous,
And scoff'd their easy fears, and vow'd that he,
Proving the magic of this dreaded girl
In equal battle, would dissolve the spell,

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