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That as like Blanchard, Gaucour dares his power,

Like Blanchard, he can brave his cruelty,
And triumph by enduring. Speak I well,
Ye men of Orleans?'

380

"Never did I hear

A shout so universal as ensued

Of approbation. The assembled host

As with one voice pour'd forth their loyalty,

384

And struck their sounding shields; and walls and

towers,

Echoed the loud uproar. The herald went.

The work of war began.

A fearful scene,"

388

Cried Isabel. "The iron storm of death
Clash'd in the sky; the mighty engines hurl'd
Huge stones which shook the ground where'er they fell.
Then was there heard at once the clang of arms,
The thundering cannons, and the soldier's shout,
The female's shriek, the affrighted infant's cry,
The groan of death,.. discord of dreadful sounds
That jarr'd the soul.

Nor while the encircling foe Leager'd the walls of Orleans, idly slept

:

396

399

Our friends for winning down the Loire its way
The frequent vessel with provision fraught,
And men, and all the artillery of death,
Cheer'd us with welcome succour. At the bridge
These safely landed mock'd the foeman's force.
This to prevent, Salisbury, their watchful chief,
A mighty work prepares. Around our walls,
Encircling walls he builds, surrounding thus
The city. Firm'd with massiest buttresses,

405

At equal distance, sixty forts protect

The English lines. But chief where in the town The six great avenues meet in the midst,

Six castles there he rear'd impregnable,

With deep-dug moats and bridges drawn aloft, 410
Where over the strong gate suspended hung
The dread portcullis. Thence the gunner's eye
From his safe shelter could with ease survey
Intended sally, or approaching aid,

And point destruction.

It were long to tell

And tedious, how in many a bold assault
The men of Orleans sallied on their foes;
How after difficult fight the enemy

415

425

Possess'd the Tournelles, and the embattled tower
That shadows from the bridge the subject Loire; 420
Though numbering now three thousand daring men,
Frequent and fierce the garrison repell'd
Their far out-numbering foes. From every aid
Included, they in Orleans groan'd beneath
All ills accumulate. The shatter'd roofs
Allow'd the dews of night free passage there;
And ever and anon the ponderous stone,
Ruining where'er it fell, with hideous crash
Came like an earthquake, startling from his sleep
The affrighted soldier. From the brazen slings 430
The wild-fire balls hiss'd through the midnight sky;
And often their huge engines cast among us
The dead and loathsome cattle of their camp,
As though our enemies, to their deadly league 434
Forcing the common air, would make us breathe
Poisonous pollution. Through the streets were seen,

The frequent fire, and heaps of dead, in haste
Piled up and steaming to infected Heaven.
For ever the incessant storm of death

439

Pours down, and crowded in unwholesome vaults
The wretched females hide, not idle there,
Wasting the hours in tears, but all employ'd,
Or to provide the hungry soldier's meal,

Or tear their garments to bind up his wounds:
A sad equality of wretchedness!

445

"Now came the worst of ills, for Famine came : The provident hand deals out its scanty dole, Yielding so little a supply to life

As but protracted death. The loathliest food

Hunted with eager eye and dainty deem'd,
The dog is slain, that at his master's feet
Howling with hunger lay; with jealous fear,

450

Hating a rival's look, the husband hides

His miserable meal; the famish'd babe

Clings closely to his dying mother's breast;

455

And.. horrible to tell!.. where, thrown aside,

There lay unburied in the open streets

Huge heaps of carcasses, the soldier stands

Eager to mark the carrion crow for food.

4.59

"O peaceful scenes of childhood! pleasant fields!

Haunts of mine infancy, where I have stray'd
Tracing the brook along its winding way,
Or pluck'd the primrose, or with giddy speed
Chaced the gay butterfly from flower to flower!
O days in vain remember'd! how my soul, 465
Sick with calamity, and the sore ills

Of hunger, dwelt on you and on my home!
Thinking of you amid the waste of war,
I could in bitterness have cursed the great
Who made me what I was, a helpless one,
Orphan'd, and wanting bread!"

470

"And be they curst!" Conrade exclaim'd, his dark eye flashing rage; "And be they curst! O groves and woodland shades, How blest indeed were you, if the iron rod

474

Should one day from Oppression's hand be wrench'd
By everlasting Justice! Come that hour,
When in the Sun the Angel of the Lord
Shall stand and cry to all the fowls of Heaven,
'Gather ye to the supper of your God;
That ye may eat the flesh of mighty men,
Of captains, and of kings!'

480

Then shall be peace."

"And now, lest all should perish," she pursued, The women and the infirm must from the town

Go forth and seek their fate.

I will not now

Recall the moment, when on my poor Francis 485
With a long look I hung. At dead of night,
Made mute by fear, we mount the secret bark,
And glide adown the stream with silent oars:
Thus thrown upon the mercy of mankind,

I wandered reckless where, till wearied out,

And cold at heart, I laid me down to die;
So by this warrior found. Him I had known

490

And loved, for all loved Conrade who had known him; Nor did I feel so pressing the hard hand

Of want in Orleans, ere he parted thence
On perilous envoy. For of his small fare

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"Of this enough," said Conrade; Holy Maid! One duty yet awaits me to perform. Orleans her envoy sent me, to demand Aid from her idle sovereign. Willingly Did I achieve the hazardous enterprize, For rumour had already made me fear The ill that hath fallen on me. It remains,

500

Ere I do banish me from human kind,

That I re-enter Orleans, and announce

505

Thy march. 'Tis night, and hark! how dead a silence! Fit hour to tread so perilous a path !

So saying, Conrade from the tent went forth.

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