No more the merry viol's note was heard; 89 No more the aged matron at her door Humm'd cheery to her spinning-wheel, and saw Her children dancing to the roundelay.
The chieftains strengthening still the ancient walls, Survey them every where with prying eye; The eager youth, in anxious preparation, Practise the arts of war; silent and stern, With the hurrying restlessness of fear, they urge Their gloomy labors. In the city dwelt An utter silence of all pleasant sounds; But all day long the armorer's beat was heard, And all night long it echoed.
"Soon the foe Led to our walls the siege as on they move The clarions clangor, and the cheerful fife, Accordant to the thundering drum's deep sound, Direct their measured march. Before the ranks Salisbury was seen, Salisbury, so long the scourge Of France; and Talbot towered by his side, Talbot, at whose dread name the froward child Clings mute and trembling to his nurse's breast. Suffolk was there, and Hungerford, and Scales, And Fastolffe, victor in the frequent fight. Dark as the autumnal storm they roll'd along, A countless host! From the high tower I mark'd The dreadful scene; I saw the iron gleam Of javelins sparkling to the noontide sun, Their banners tossing to the troubled gale, And fearful music heard upon the wind The modulated step of multitudes.
"There in the midst, shuddering with fear, I saw The dreadful stores of death; tremendous roll'd Over rough roads the harsh wheels; the brazen tubes Flash'd in the sun their fearful splendor far, And, last, the loaded wagons creak'd along.
The detail. Isabel, proceed! for soon Destined to rescue this devoted town, The tale of all the ills she hath endured I listen, sorrowing for the past, and feel Joy and contentment in the merciful task For which I am sent forth."
Thus spake the maid. And Isabel pursued. "And now more near The hostile host advancing pitch their tents. Unnumber'd streamers wave, and clamorous shouts, Anticipating conquest, rend the air
With universal uproar. From their camp A herald came; his garb emblazon'd o'er With leopards and the lilies of our realm — Foul shame to France! The summons of the foe He brought." The Bastard interrupting cried, "I was with Gaucour and the assembled chiefs, When by his office privileged and proud That herald spake, as certain of success As he had made a league with Victory. Nobles of France rebellious! from the chief Of yon victorious host, the mighty Earl Of Salisbury, now there in place of him Your Regent John of Bedford: in his name I come, and in our sovereign Lord the King's, Henry. Ye know full well our master's claim, Incontrovertible to this good realm,
By right descent, and solemnly confirm'd By your great monarch and our mighty king Fifth Henry, in the treaty ratified
At Troyes, wherein your monarch did disclaim All future right and title to this crown, His own exempted, for his son and heirs Down to the end of time. This sign'd and seal'd At the holy altar, and by nuptial knot
Of Henry and your princess, gives the realm, Charles dead and Henry, to his infant son
“Nor were our chieftains, whilst their care pro- Henry of Windsor. Who then dares oppose cured
Human defence, neglectful to implore
That heavenly aid, deprived of which the strength Of man is weakness. Bearing through our streets The precious relics of the holy dead,
My master's title, in the face of God, Of wilful perjury, most atrocious crime, Stands guilty, and of flat rebellion 'gainst The Lord's anointed. He, at Paris crown'd With loud acclaim of duteous multitudes, Deliver up your town
The monks and nuns pour'd many an earnest Thus speaks by me.
To Salisbury, and yield yourselves and arms, So shall your lives be safe and such his grace, If of your free accord to him you pay
Due homage as your sovereign Lord and King, Your rich estates, your houses shall be safe, And you in favor stand, as is the Duke, Philip of Burgundy. But mark me well! If, obstinately wilful, you persist
To scorn his proffer'd mercy, not one stone Upon another of this wretched town Shall then be left; and when the English host Triumphant in the dust have trod the towers Of Orleans, who survive the dreadful war Shall die like traitors by the hangman's hand. Ye men of France, remember Caen and Roan!'
"He ceased: nor Gaucour for a moment paused To form reply.
"Herald! to all thy vaunts Of English sovereignty let this suffice
For answer: France will only own as King Her own legitimate Lord. On Charles's brow, Transmitted through a long and good descent, The crown remains. We know no homage due To English robbers, and disclaim the peace Inglorious made at Troyes by factious men Hostile to France. Thy master's proffer'd grace Meets the contempt it merits. Herald, yes, Be sure we shall remember Caen and Roan! Go tell the mighty Earl of Salisbury, 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?'
A shout so universal as ensued
Of approbation. The assembled host
As with one voice pour'd forth their loyalty, And struck their sounding shields; and walls and
Echoed the loud uproar. The herald went. The work of war began."
"A fearful scene," 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.
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 The wild-fire balls hiss'd through the midnight sky; 96
And often their huge engines cast among us The dead and loathsome cattle of their camp, As though our enemies, to their deadly league Forcing the common air, would make us breathe Poisonous pollution.97 Through the streets were
The frequent fire, and heaps of dead, in haste Piled up and streaming to infected Heaven. For ever the incessant storm of death Pours down, and crowded in unwholesome vaults 98 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!
"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, Hating a rival's look, the husband hides His miserable meal; the famish'd babe
"Nor while the encircling foe Clings closely to his dying mother's breast; horrible to tell! - where, thrown aside,
Leaguer'd the walls of Orleans, idly slept
Huge heaps of carcasses, the soldier stands Eager to mark the carrion crow for food.99
Our friends for winning down the Loire its way There lay unburied in the open streets The frequent vessel with provision fraught, And men, and all the artillery of death, Cheer'd us with welcome succor. At the bridge These safely landed mock'd the foeman's force. This to prevent, Salisbury, their watchful chief,92 A mighty work prepares. Around our walls, Encircling walls he builds, surrounding thus The city. Firm'd with massiest buttresses, At equal distance, sixty forts protect The English lines. But chief where in the town The six great avenues meet in the midst,93 Six castles there he rear'd impregnable, With deep-dug moats and bridges drawn aloft, 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.
"O peaceful scenes of childhood! pleasant fields!
"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 Possess'd the Tournelles, and the embattled tower That shadows from the bridge the subject Loire; Though numbering now three thousand daring men,
Frequent and fierce the garrison repell'd Their far outnumbering foes. From every aid Included, they in Orleans groan'd beneath All ills accumulate. The shatter'd roofs
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 Chased the gay butterfly from flower to flower! O days in vain remember'd! how my soul, 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!"
"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 Should one day from Oppression's hand be wrench'd By everlasting Justice! Come that hour, When in the Sun the Angel of the Lord100 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!' 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 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 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
"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 enterprise, For rumor had already made me fear The ill that hath fallen on me. It remains, Ere I do banish me from human kind, That I reënter Orleans, and announce
"There is no food in Orleans," he replied, "Scarce a meal more. The assembled chiefs resolve,
If thou shouldst bring no tidings of near aid, To cut their way to safety, or by death Prevent the pang of famine.101 One they sought, Who, venturing to the English lines, should spy Where best to venture on this desperate chance, And I, believing all I loved was lost, Offer'd myself.”
So saying, they approach'd
Thy march. 'Tis night, and hark! how dead a The gate. The sentinel, soon as he heard silence!
Fit hour to tread so perilous a path!"
So saying, Conrade from the tent went forth.
THE night was calm, and many a moving cloud Shadow'd the moon. Along the forest glade With swift foot Conrade past, and now had reach'd The plain, where whilome by the pleasant Loire, Cheer'd with the song, the rustics had beheld The day go down upon their merriment: No song of peace now echoed on its banks. There tents were pitch'd, and there the sentinel, Slow pacing on his sullen rounds, beheld The frequent corse roll down the tainted stream. Conrade with wider sweep pursued his way, Shunning the camp, now hush'd in sleep and still. And now no sound was heard save of the Loire, Murmuring along. The noise of coming feet Alarm'd him; nearer drew the rapid steps As of pursuit; anon- - the clash of arms! That instant breaking through a rifted cloud The moonlight show'd, where two with force combined
Prest on a single foe, who, warding still Their swords, retreated in unequal fight, As he would make the city. Hastening With timely help to save him, Conrade sped. One with an unexpected stroke he slew; The other fled: "Now let us speed our best, Frenchman!" he cried. On to the Loire they ran, And making way with practised arms across, Ere long in safety gain'd the opposite shore.
Thitherward footsteps, with uplifted lance Challenged the darkling travellers. At their voice He drew the strong bolts back, and cautiously Open'd the wicket. To the careful chiefs Who sate in midnight council, they were led, And Conrade thus address'd them:
In this our utmost need, hath sent us aid. A holy Maid hath been raised up by Heaven; Her mission is by miracles confirm'd, And hither, with twelve hundred chosen men, Led by Dunois, she comes. I am myself A witness to the truth of what I tell ; And by to-morrow's noon, before these walls Her banner will be seen."
Thereat the chiefs Were fill'd with wonder and with joy, by doubt Little repress'd. "Open the granaries! Xaintrailles exclaim'd; "give we to all the host With hand unsparing now a plenteous meal; To-morrow we are safe! for Heaven all-just Hath seen our sufferings and decreed their end. Let the glad tidings echo through the town! God is with us!"
"Be not too confident," Graville replied, " in this miraculous aid. Some frantic woman this, who gives belief To idle dreams, and with her madness then Infects the simple! That Dunois is there, Leading in arms twelve hundred chosen men, Affords a better hope; yet lavish not Our stores, lest in the enterprise he fail, And Orleans then be fain to bear the yoke Of England!"
"Chief! I tell thee," Conrade cried, "I did myself behold the sepulchre, Fulfilling what she spake, give up those arms Which surely for no common end the grave
Through many an age hath held inviolate. She is the Prophetess of the Most High, And will deliver Orleans!"
Gaucour then, "Be it as thou hast said. For I must think, That surely to no vulgar tale these chiefs Would yield a light belief; and our poor stores Must speedily, ye know, be clean consumed. Spread then the joyful tidags through the troops That God hath to deliver the oppress'd, As in old time, raised up a Prophetess, And the belief itself will make them fight With irresistible courage."
And what he said seem'd good. The men of Orleans, Long by their foemen bay'd, such transport felt, As when the Mexicans,102 with eager eye Gazing to Huixachtla's distant top, On that last night, doubtful if ever morn Again shall cheer them, mark the mystic fire Flame on the breast of some brave prisoner, A dreadful altar. As they see the blaze Beaming on Iztapalapan's near towers, Or on Tezcuco's calmy lake flash'd far, Songs of thanksgiving and the shout of joy Wake the loud echo; the glad husband tears The mantling aloe from his consort's face, And children, now deliver'd from the dread Of everlasting darkness, look abroad, Hail the good omen, and expect the sun Uninjur'd still to run his flaming race.
While thus in Orleans hope had banished sleep, The Maiden's host perform'd their evening prayer, And in the forest took their rest secure. And now the morning came. At earliest dawn Lightly upstarting, and bedight in arms, The Bastard moved along, with provident eye Marshalling the troops. All high in hope they march;
And now the sun shot from the southern sky His noontide radiance, when afar they hear The hum of men, and see the distant towers Of Orleans, and the bulwarks of the foe, And many a streamer wantoning in air. These as they saw and thought of all the ills Their brethren had endured, closely pent there. For many a month, such ardor for the fight Burnt in each bosom, as young Ali felt Then when Mohammed of the assembled tribe Ask'd who would be his Vizir. Fierce in faith, Forth from the race of Hashem stept the youth, "Prophet of God! lo-I will be the man!" And well did Ali merit that high post, Victorious upon Beder's fertile vale, And on mount Ohud, and before the walls Of Chaibar, when down-cleaving to the chest His giant foe, he grasp'd the massy gate, Shook with strong arm and tore it from the fort, And lifted it in air, portentous shield!
"Behold the towers of Orleans," cried Dunois, "Lo! this the vale where on the banks of Loire, Of yore, at close of day the rustic band Danced to the roundelay. In younger years
And as she spake, a soldier from the ranks Came forward. "I will be thy messenger, O Prophetess! and to the English camp Will bear thy bidding."
"Go," the Virgin cried; "Say to the Lord of Salisbury, and the chiefs Of England, Suffolk, Fastolffe, Talbot, Scales, Invaders of the country, say, thus says THE MAID OF ORLEANS: With your troops retire In peace. Of every captured town the keys Restore to Charles; so bloodless you may seek Your native island; for the God of Hosts Thus hath decreed. To Charles the rightful heir, By long descent and by the willing choice Of duteous subjects, hath the Lord assign'd The kingdom. In His name the Virgin comes Arm'd with the sword, yet not of mercy void. Depart in peace for ere the morrow dawns, Victorious upon yonder wall shall wave Her holy banner.'' To the English camp
Fearless the herald went.
At mid-day meal, With all the dissonance of boisterous mirth, The British chiefs caroused and quaff'd the bowl, When by the sentinel conducted there The Maiden's herald came.
"Salisbury, and ye the representatives
Of the English King, usurper of this realm, To ye the leaders of the English host
come, no welcome messenger. Thus saith THE MAID OF ORLEANS: With your troops retire In peace. Of every captured town the keys Restore to Charles; so bloodless you may seek Your native island; for the God of Hosts Thus hath decreed. To Charles the rightful heir, By long descent and by the willing choice Of duteous subjects, hath the Lord assign'd The kingdom. In His name the Virgin comes, Arm'd with the sword, yet not of mercy void. Depart in peace for ere the morrow dawns, Victorious upon yonder wall shall wave Her holy banner.'"
Wonder made a pause; To this a laugh succeeds. "What!" Fastolffe cried, "A virgin warrior hath your monarch sent
To save devoted Orleans? By the rood, I thank his grace. If she be young and fair, No worthless prize, my lords! Go, tell your Maid, Joyful we wait her coming."
Among the English chiefs who had grown old In arms, yet had not age unnerved his limbs, But from the flexile nimbleness of youth
To unyielding stiffness braced them. One who saw Him seated at the board, might well have deem'd That Talbot with his whole collected might Wielded the sword in war, for on his neck The veins were full,203 and every muscle bore The character of strength. He his stern eye Fix'd on the herald, and before he spake His silence threaten'd.104
"Get thee gone!" exclaim'd The indignant chief: "away! nor think to scare With girlish phantasies the English host That scorns your bravest warriors. Hie thee thence, And tell this girl she may expect to meet The mockery of the camp!"
"Nay, scare her not,' Replied their chief: "go, tell this Maid of Orleans, That Salisbury longs to meet her in the fight. Nor let her fear that cords or iron chains Shall gall her tender limbs; for I myself Will be her prison, and -
Go down! Ye English mothers, mourn ye now! Daughters of England, weep! for, hard of heart. Still your mad leaders urge this impious war; And for their folly and their wickedness, Your sons, your husbands, by the sword must fall. Long-suffering is the Lord, and slow to wrath, But heavy are his judgments!" He who spake Was young and comely; had his cheek been pale With dread, and had his eye look'd fearfully, Sure he had won compassion; but the blood Gave now a livelier meaning to his cheek, As with a prophet's look and prophet's voice He raised his ominous warning: they who heard Wonder'd, and they who rear'd the stake perform'd With half-unwilling hands their slacken'd toil, And doubted what might follow. Not unseen Rear'd they the stake, and piled around the wood; In sight of Orleans and the Maiden's host,10 Had Suffolk's arrogant fierceness bade the work Of death be done. The Maiden's host beheld; At once in eager wrath they raised the loud And general clamor, "Lead us to the foe! "Not upon us, O GOD!" the Maid exclaim'd, "Not upon us cry out the innocent blood!" And bade the signal sound. In the English camp The clarion and the trumpet's blare was heard; In haste they seize their arms, in haste they form, Some by bold words seeking to hide their fear Even from themselves, some silently in prayer, For much their hearts misgave them.
"Contemptuous man! No more!" the herald cried, as to his cheek Rush'd the red anger: "bearing words of peace And timely warning came I to your camp; And here have been with insolent ribaldry Received. Bear witness, chieftains! that the Of Suffolk swell'd within him.
Free from blood-guiltiness, shall meet the war."
"And who art thou?" cried Suffolk, and his eye Grew fierce and wrath-inflamed: "What fool art thou,
Who at this woman's bidding comest to brave The host of England? Thou shalt have thy meed!" Then turning to the sentinel he cried,
Prepare a stake! and let the men of Orleans,
And let this woman who believes her name
May privilege her herald, see the fire
Exclaim'd the injurious earl; "kindle the pile, That France may see the fire, and in defeat Feel aggravated shame!"
And now they bound The herald to the stake: he cried aloud, And fix'd his eye on Suffolk, "Let not him Who girdeth on his harness boast himself As he that puts it off! 107 They come; they come ! God and the Maid!"
The host of France approach'd, And Suffolk eagerly beheld the fire
Consume him.105 Plant a stake! for by my God Brought near the pile; when suddenly a shout
He shall be kalendared of this new faith
First martyr." Came o'er the herald's cheek, and his heart beat With quicker action; but the sudden flush, Nature's instinctive impulse, faded soon To such a steady hue as spake the soul Roused up with all its powers, and unsubdued, And strengthen'd for endurance. Through the
As he spake, a sudden flush
Toward Orleans call'd his eye, and thence he saw A man-at-arms upon a barded steed Come thundering on.
As when Chederles comes To aid the Moslem on his deathless horse, Swaying the sword with such resistless arm, Such mightiest force, as he had newly quaff'd The hidden waters of eternal youth, Till with the copious draught of life and strength Inebriate; such, so fierce, so terrible, Came Conrade through the camp. Aright, aleft, The affrighted foemen scatter from his spear; Onward he comes, and now the circling throng Fly from the stake, and now he checks his course, And cuts the herald's bonds, and bids him live To arm, and fight, and conquer.
"Haste thee hence To Orleans," cried the warrior. "Tell the chiefs
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