« 前へ次へ »
So saying, they approach'd The gate. The sentinel, soon as he heard Thitherward footsteps, with uplifted lance Challenged the darkling travellers. At their voice He draws the strong bolts back, and painful turns The massy entrance. To the careful chiefs They pass. At midnight of their extreme state Counselling they sat, serious and stern. To them Conrade :
- “ Assembled warriors ! sent from God, “ There is a holy Maid by miracles “ Made manifest. Twelve hundred chosen men “ Follow her hallow'd standard. These Dunois, “ The strength of France, arrays. With the next noon “ Ye shall behold their march.” ,
Astonishment Seized the assembled chiefs, and joy by doubt Little repress’d. “ Open the granaries !" Xaintrailles exclaim'd; “ give we to all the host “ With hand unsparing now the plenteous meal;
“ To-morrow we are safe! for Heaven all just “ Hath seen our sufferings and decreed their end. « Let the glad tidings echo thro' the town! “ God is with us !"
“Rest not in too full faith,” Graville replied, “ on this miraculous aid... “ Some phrenzied female whose wild phantasy, “ Shaping vain dreams, infects the credulous “ With her own madness! That Dunois is there, “ Leading in arms twelve hundred chosen men, “ May give good hope, yet let not we our food “ Be lavish’d, lest the warrior in the fight “ Should haply fail, and Orleans be the prey “ 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 “ Thro' many an age hath held inviolate. “ She is the delegate of the Most High,
“ And shall deliver Orleans !"
Gaucour then :“ Be it as thou hast said. High hope I feel, “ For surely to no vulgar tale these chiefs 6 Would yield a light belief. Our scanty stores “ Must yield us, ere another week elapse, “ To death or England. Tell thro' all our troops “ There is a holy virgin sent from God; “ They in that faith invincible shall war “ With more than mortal fury.”
Thus the Chief, And what he said seem'd good. The men of Orleans, Long by their foeman bay'd, a victim band To war, and woe, and want, such transport felt, As when the Mexicans, 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,
Thus while in that besieged town the night Wan’d sleepless, silent slept the hallow'd host. And now the morning came. From his hard couch, 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 i His noon-tide radiance, when afar they hear . The hum of men, and mark 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, beleager'd 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 tower 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