Then man met man, then on the batter'd shield
Rung the loud lance, and thro' the darken'd sky
Fast fell the arrowy storm.
The Bastard's arm sway'd irresistible
The strokes of death; and by his side the Maid Led the fierce fight, the Maid, though all unused To such rude conflict, now inspired by Heaven, Flashing her flamy falchion thro' the troops, That like the thunderbolt, where'er it fell, Scatter'd the trembling ranks. The Saracen, Tho' arm'd from Cashbin or Damascus, wields A weaker sword; nor might that magic blade Compare with this, which Oriana saw Flame in the ruffian Ardan's robber hand, When, sick and cold as death, she turn'd away Her dizzy eyes, lest they should see the fall Of her own Amadis. Nor plated shield, Nor the strong hauberk, nor the crested casque, Stay that descending sword. Dreadful she moved, Like as the Angel of the Lord went forth]
And smote his army, when the Assyrian king, Haughty of Hamath and Sepharvaim fallen, Blasphemed the God of Israel.
Hung doubtful, where, exampling hardiest deeds, Salisbury mow'd down the foe, and Fastolffe strove, And in the hottest doings of the war
Tower'd Talbot. He, remembring the past day When from his name the affrighted sons of France
Fled trembling, all astonish'd at their force
And wontless valour, rages round the field Dreadful in fury; yet in every man
Meeting a foe fearless, and in the faith
Of Heaven's assistance firm.
Reaches the walls of Orleans. For the war
Prepared, and confident of victory,
Forth speed the troops. Not when afar exhaled The hungry raven snuffs the steam of blood
That from some carcass-cover'd field of fame
Taints the pure air, wings he more eagerly To riot on the gore, than rush'd the ranks; Impatient now for many an ill endured
In the long siege, to wreak upon their foes Due vengeance. Then more fearful grew the fray; The swords that late flash'd to the evening sun Now quench'd in blood their radiance.
Howl'd the deep wind that ominous of storms Roll'd on the lurid clouds. The blacken'd night Frown'd, and the thunder from the troubled sky Roar'd hollow. Javelins clash'd and bucklers rang; Shield prest on shield; loud on the helmet jarr'd The ponderous battle-axe; the frequent groan Of death commingling with the storm was heard, And the shrill shriek of fear.
Before the walls of Chartres quell'd the pride
Of the third Edward, when the heavy hail
Smote down his soldiers, and the conqueror heard
GOD in the tempest, and remember'd him
Of the widows he had made, and in the name Of blessed Mary vow'd the vow of peace.
Lo! where the holy banner waved aloft,
The lambent lightnings play. Irradiate round,
As with a blaze of glory, o'er the field
It stream'd miraculous splendour. Then their hearts Sunk, and the English trembled; with such fear Possess'd, as when the combined host beheld The sun stand still on Gibeon, at the voice Of that king-conquering warrior, he who smote The country of the hills, and of the south, From Baal-gad to Halak, and their chiefs, Even as the Lord commanded. Swift they fled From that portentous banner, and the sword Of France; tho' Talbot with vain valiancy Yet urged the war, and stemm'd alone the tide Of conquest. Even their leaders felt dismay; Fastolffe fled fast, and Salisbury in the rout
Mingles, and, all impatient of defeat,
Borne backward Talbot turns.
The cry of conquest, deeper grew the storm, And darkness, hovering o'er on raven wing, Brooded the field of death.
Deem themselves safe the trembling fugitives. On to the forts they haste. Bewilder'd there Amid the moats by fear, and the dead gloom Of more than midnight darkness, plunge the troops, Crush'd by fast following numbers who partake The death they give. As rushing from the snows Of winter liquefied, the torrent tide
Resistless down the mountain rolls along, Till at the brink of giddy precipice Arrived, with deafening clamour down it falls: Thus borne along, tumultuously the troops, Driven by the force behind them, plunge amid The liquid death. Then rose the dreadful cries More dreadful, and the dash of breaking waves
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