"The hour of merriment; it is not thine

"To instruct me in my duty."

Of reproof

Heedless, the stranger to the minstrel cried,

"Why harpest thou of good King Arthur's fame "Amid these walls? Virtue and Genius love "That lofty lay. Hast thou no loose lewd tale "To pamper and provoke the appetite? "Such should procure thee worthy recompence! "Or rather sing thou of that mighty one, "Who tore the ewe lamb from the poor man's bosom, "That was to him even as a daughter! Charles, "This holy tale would I tell, prophet-like, "And look at thee and cry, Thou art the man!'

He said, and with a quick and troubled step Retired. Astonish'd at his daring phrase,

The guests sat heedless of the minstrel's song, Pondering the words mysterious. Soon the harp Beguiled their senses of anxiety,

The court dispersed: retiring from the hall, Charles and the delegated Damsel sought

The inner palace. There awaited them

The Queen: with her JOAN lov'd to pass the hours,
By various converse cheer'd; for she had won
The Virgin's heart by her mild melancholy,
The calm and duteous patience that deplored
A husband's cold half-love. To her she told
With what strange words the messenger from Orleans
Had roused uneasy wonder in her mind;

For on her ear yet vibrated his voice,

When lo! again he came and at the door

Stood scowling round.

"Why dost thou haunt me thus ?" The Monarch cried; "Is there no place secure "From thy rude insolence? Unmanner'd man! "I know thee not!"

"Then learn to know me, Charles !"

Solemnly he replied; "read well my face,

"That thou may'st know it on that dreadful day,

"When at the throne of God I shall demand

"His justice on thee!" Turning from the King, To Agnes as she enter'd, in a tone

More low, more awfully severe, he cried,

"Dost thou too know me not ?"

She glanced on him,

And pale and breathless hid her head convulsed

In the Maid's bosom.

"King of France!" he said,

"She loved me! day by day I dwelt with her, "Her voice was music, very sweet her smiles!

"I left her! left her,

"To fight thy battles.

Charles, in evil hour,

Thou meantime didst come,

"Staining most foul her spotless purity;

"For she was pure:...Alas! these courtly robes

"Hide not the hideous stain of infamy,

"Thou canst not with thy golden belt put on "An honourable name, unhappy one!

"My poor polluted Agnes!-Charles, almost

My faith in Heaven is shaken! Thou art here

Rioting in joy, while I, tho' innocent

"Of ill, the victim of another's vice,

66

Drag on the loathsome burthen of existence, "And doubt Heaven's justice?"

So he said, and frown'd

Dark as the form who at Mahommed's door

Knock'd fierce and frequent; from whose fearful look,

Bath'd with cold damps, every beholder fled.

Even the prophet, almost terrified,

Endured but half to view him, for he knew
AZRAEL, the dreadful Messenger of Fate,
And his death-day was come. Guilt-petrified
The Monarch sate, nor could endure to face
His bosom-probing frown. The mission'd Maid
Meantime had read his features, and she cried,
"I know thee, Conrade!" Rising from her seat,
She took his hand, for he stood motionless,
Gazing on Agnes now with steady eye,

Dreadful though calm: him from the court she drew,
And to the river's banks, resisting not,

Both sad and silent, led; till at the last,
As from a dream awaking, Conrade look'd
Full on the Maid, and falling on her neck,
He wept.

"I know thee, Damsel!" he exclaim'd: "Dost thou remember that tempestuous night, "When I, a weather-beaten traveller, sought "Your hospitable doors? ah me! I then "Was happy! you too sojourn'd then in peace. "Fool that I was, I blamed such happiness, "Arraign'd it as a guilty selfish sloth, "Unhappily prevailing, so I fear me,

"Or why art thou at Chinon ?"

Him the Maid

Answering, address'd, "I do remember well,

"That night for then the Holy Spirit first,

"Waked by thy words, possess'd me."

Conrade cried,

"Poor Maiden, thou wert happy! thou hadst lived

"Blessing and blest, if I had never stray'd,