The assembled court gazed on the marshall'd train, And at the gate the aged prelate stood To pour his blessing on the chosen host. And now a soft and solemn symphony Was heard, and, chaunting high the hallow'd hymn, A holy banner, woven by virgin hands, The Maid, her brows in reverence unhelm'd, As rising from the ground, on her white brow And dim in distance, soon the towers of Chinon Fade from the eye reverted. The sixth sun, Purpling the sky with his dilated light, Sunk westering; when embosom'd in the depth With many a light hue tinged, the curling smoke Of one in arms approaching, she had fled; "Whom even the wretched need not fear to love." So saying, he arose and took her hand, "Tho' school'd by wrongs to loathe at human kind, "Will beat, rebellious to its own resolves. "Come hither, outcast one! and call her friend, And she shall be thy friend more readily, "Because thou art unhappy." Isabel Saw a tear starting in the Virgin's eye, And glancing upon Conrade, she too wept, Wailing his wilder'd senses. "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, "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, "Their happiest consolation." She replied, Pressing the damsel's hand, in the mild tone "England shall triumph; then to be awaked "Wert thou the while companion of my tent, Lightlier the time would pass. Return with me, "I may not long be absent." So she spake. The wanderer in half-utter'd words express'd Grateful assent. "Art thou astonish'd, Maid, "That one tho' powerful is benevolent? "In truth thou well mayest wonder!" Conrade cried. "But little cause to love the mighty ones "Hath the low cottager! for with its shade "Doth POWER, a barren death-dew-dropping tree, "Blast ev'ry herb beneath its baleful boughs! "Tell thou thy sufferings, Isabel! Relate "How warr'd the chieftains, and the people died. "The mission'd Virgin hath not heard thy woes; "And pleasant to mine ear the twice-told tale "Of sorrow." Gazing on the martial Maid She read her wish, and spake. "A wanderer now, "Friendless and hopeless, still I love to think 66 Upon my native home, and call to mind "Each haunt of careless youth; the woodbined wall, "The jessamine that round the straw-roof'd cot "Its fragrant branches wreath'd, beneath whose shade |