Will save. I shall be happier, Theodore, The youth's cheek A rapid blush disorder'd. "Oh! the court Is pleasant then, and thou wouldst fain forget The treasure of the heart!" 461 'Injurious man! devoted for this realm, I go a willing victim. The dark veil Hath been withrawn for me, and I have seen Yes, Theodore, I shall redeem my country, 470 Abandoning for it the joys of life, Yea, life itself!" Then on his neck she fell, And fled across the plain. 475 479 She reach'd the court Breathless. The mingled movements of her mind 485 As though there had not been a God in Heaven! Ere the Maid replied, 494 The Son of Orleans came with joyful speed, Then the King exclaim'd, "O chosen by Heaven! defer one day thy march, That humbled at the altar we may join The general prayer. Be these our holy rites to night for merriment!' " 500 The Maid replied, "The wretched ones in Orleans, In fear and hunger and expiring hope, Await 510 We march to rescue Orleans from the foe." 515 JOAN OF ARC. THE FIFTH BOOK. SCARCE had the early dawn from Chinon's towers The river's winding way, when from her couch Poising the lance went forth. 5 Twelve hundred men, Rearing in order'd ranks their glittering spears, 10 Before them tower'd Dunois, his manly face 15 The assembled court gazed on the marshall'd train, 20 Thrill'd through the army, as the reverend man Took the white standard, and with heaven-ward eye Call'd on the God of Justice, blessing it. 25 The Maid, her brows in reverence unhelm'd, A loud and universal shout burst forth, As rising from the ground, upon her brow 30 She placed the plumed casque, and waved on high The banner'd lilies. On their way they march, And dim in distance, soon the towers of Chinon Fade from the eye reverted. Purpling the sky with his dilated light, Sunk westering; when embosom'd in the depth They pitch their tents. The hum of occupation 40 With many a light hue tinged, the curling smoke But Conrade, looking upward, recognized The Maid of Arc. 66 55 Whom even the wretched need not fear to love." So saying, he arose and took her hand, And press'd it to his bosom. 66 My weak heart, 59 Though school'd by wrongs to loath at human kind, Will beat, rebellious to its own resolves. Come hither, outcast one! and call her friend, And she will be thy friend more readily Because thou art unhappy." Isabel Saw a tear starting in the virgin's eye, "Mission'd Maid!" The warrior cried, " be happy! for thy power Can make this sufferer so. From Orleans driven, Orphan'd by war, and of her only friend Bereft, I found her wandering in the wilds, 65 70 Worn out with want and wretchedness. Thou, Joan, Wilt his beloved to the youth restore; And trust me, Maid! the miserable feel When they on others bestow happiness, 75 Their happiest consolation." She replied, Pressing the damsel's hand, in the mild tone "Soon shall we enter Orleans," said the Maid; England shall triumph, then to be awaked 80 |