For that alone was left him now to love.

They past the Yonne, they past the rapid Loire,
Still urging on their way with cautious speed,
Shunning Auxerre, and Bar's embattled wall,
And Romorantin's towers.

So journeying on,

Fast by a spring, which welling at his feet
With many a winding crept along the mead,
A Knight they saw, who there at his repast
Let the west wind play round his ungirt brow.
Approaching near, the Bastard recognized
The gallant friend of Orleans, the brave chief
Du Chastel; and, the mutual greeting pass'd,
They on the streamlet's mossy bank reclined
Beside him, and his frugal fare partook,

And drank the running waters.

"Art thou bound

"For the Court, Dunois?" exclaim'd the aged Knight; "I deem'd thee far away, coop'd in the walls

"Of Orleans; a hard siege her valiant sons

"Right loyally endure !"

"I left the town,"

Dunois reply'd, "thinking that my prompt speed

Might seize the hostile stores, and with fresh force "Re-enter. Fastoffe's better fate prevail'd, "And from the field of shame my maddening horse "Bore me, for the barb'd arrow gored his flank. "Fatigued and faint with that day's dangerous toil, "My deep wounds bleeding, vainly with weak hand "I check'd the powerless rein. Nor ought avail'd "When heal'd at length, defeated and alone

66

Again to enter Orleans. In Lorraine

"I sought to raise new powers, and now return'd "With strangest and most unexpected aid "Sent by high Heaven, I seek the Court, and thence "To that beleager'd town shall lead such force, "That the proud English in their fields of blood "Shall perish."

"I too," Tanneguy reply'd,

"In the field of battle once again perchance

May serve my royal Master; in his cause My youth adventured much, nor can my age "Find better close than in the clang of arms "To die for him whom I have lived to serve. "Thou art for the Court; Son of the Chief I loved! "Be wise by my experience. He who seeks

"Court favour, ventures like the boy who leans "Over the brink of some high precipice

"To reach the o'erhanging fruit. Thou seest me here "A banish'd man, Dunois! so to appease

"Richemont, who, jealous of the royal ear,

“With midnight murder leagues, and down the Loire "Rolls the black carcase of his strangled foe. "Now confident of strength, at the King's feet "He stabs the King's best friends, and then demands, "As with a conqueror's imperious tone,

"The post of honour. Son of that loved Chief "Whose death my arm avenged, may all thy days "Be happy! serve thy country in the field, "And in the hour of peace amid thy friends

"Dwell thou without ambition."

So he spake.

But when the Bastard told the wonderous tale, How interposing Heaven had its high aid Vouchsafed to France, the old man's eyes flash'd fire, And rising from the bank, the stately steed That grazed beside he mounts. "Farewell, Dunois, "Thou too the Delegate of Heaven, farewell! "I go to raise the standard! we shall meet "At Orleans." O'er the plain he spurr'd his steed.

They journey on their way till Chinon's towers
Rose to the distant view; imperial seat

Of Charles, for Paris with her servile sons,

A headstrong, mutable, ferocious race,

Bow'd to the invader's yoke, since that sad hour When Faction o'er her streets with giant stride Strode terrible, and Murder and Revenge,

As by the midnight torches' lurid light

They mark'd their mangled victims writhe convulsed,

Laugh'd at the deep death groan. Ill-fated scene!
Thro' many a dark age drench'd with innocent blood,
And one day doom'd to know the damning guilt
Of BRISSOT murder'd, and the heroic wife
Of ROLAND! Martyr'd patriots, spirits pure,
Wept by the good ye fell! Yet still survives
Sown by your toil and by your blood manured,
The imperishable seed; and still its roots

Spread, and strike deep, and yet shall it become
That Tree beneath whose shade the Sons of Men
Shall pitch their tents in peace.

In Paris now

The Invader triumph'd.

On an infant's head

Had Bedford placed the crown of Charlemagne,

And factious nobles bow'd the subject knee

In homage to their King, their baby Lord,

Their cradled mighty one!

"Beloved of Heaven,"

So spake the Son of Orleans as they pass'd,

"Lo these the walls of Chinon, this the abode