Yet must they fall."

"And fall they shall!" replied
The Maid of Orleans. "Ere the sun be set
The lily on that shattered wall shall wave
Triumphant. Men of France! ye have fought well
On yon blood-reeking plain. Your humbled foes
Lurk trembling now behind their massy walls.
Wolves that have ravaged the neglected flock!
The Shepherd the Great Shepherd is arisen!
Ye fly! yet shall not ye by flight escape
His vengeance. Men of Orleans! it were vain
By words to waken wrath within your breasts.
Look round! Your holy buildings and your homes.
Ruins that choke the way! your populous town-
One open sepulchre ! who is there here

That does not mourn a friend, a brother slain,
A parent famished...or his dear loved wife
Torn from his bosom..outcast.. broken-hearted..
Cast on the mercy of mankind?"

A prisoner, in the ills of that defeat
Participant, partaking not the shame:
But for his rank and high desert, the King
Had ransom'd him, doom'd now to meet the foe
With better fortune.

O'er the last presides
The bastard son of Orleans, great in arms.
His prowess knew the foes, and his fair fame
Acknowledged, since before his stripling arm
Fled Warwick; Warwick, he whose wide renown
Greece knew and Antioch and the holy soil
Of Palestine, since there in arms he went
On gallant pilgrimage; yet by Dunois
Baffled, and yielding him the conqueror's praise.
And by his side the martial Maiden pass'd,
Lovely in arms as that Arcadian boy
Parthenopaus 1, when the war of beasts
Disdaining, he to cope with men went forth,
Bearing the bow and those Dictæan shafts
Diana gave, when she the youth's fair form
Saw, soften'd, and forgave the mother's fault.

Loup's was the nearest fort. Here Gladdisdale 2
Commands the English, who as the enemy
Moved to the assault, from bow and arbalist
Their shafts and quarrels shower'd. Nor did they use
Hand-weapons only and hand-engines here,
Nor by the arm alone, or bow-string sped
The missile flew, but driven by the strain'd force
Of the balista 3, in one body spent

Stay'd not; through arms and men it made its way,
And leaving death behind, still held its course
By many a death unclogg'd. With rapid march
Onward the assailants came, and now they reach'd
Where by the bayle's embattled wall in arms
The knights of England stood. There Poynings shook
His lance, and Gladdisdale his heavy mace
For the death-blow prepared. Alençon here,
And here the Bastard came, and by the Maid,
That daring man who to the English host
Then insolent of many a conquest gain'd,
Had borne her bidding. A rude coat of mail
Unhosed, unhooded, as of lowly line 5

He wore, though here amid the high-born chiefs
Pre-eminent for prowess. On his head

prising length and weight, and often many small ones together. Its form was not unlike that of a broken bow; it had two arms, but strait and not curve like those of a cross-bow of which the whole acting force consists in bending the bow. That of the balista as well as of the catapulta, lies in its cords.Rollin.

4 "The bayle or lists was a space on the outside of the ditch, surrounded by strong pallisades, and sometimes by a low embattled wall. In the attack of fortresses, as the range of the machines then in use did not exceed the distance of four stadia, the besiegers did not carry on their approaches by means of trenches, but begun their operations above ground with the attack of the bayle or lists, where many feats of chivalry were performed by the knights and men at arms, who considered the assault of that work as particularly belonging to them, the weight of their armour preventing them from scaling the walls. As this part was attacked by the knights and men at arms, it was also defended by those of the same rank in the place, whence many single combats were fought here. This was at the first investing of the place."- Grose.

> In France only persons of a certain estate, called un fief de hauber, were permitted to were a hauberk, which was the ar

A black plume shadow'd the rude-featured helm. 1
Then was the war of men, when front to front
They rear'd the hostile hand, for low the wall
Where an assailant's upward-driven spear
Might reach his enemy.

As Alençon moved,

On his crown-crested helm with ponderous blow
Fell Gladdisdale's huge mace. Back he recoil'd
Astounded; soon recovering, his sharp lance
Thrust on the warrior's shield: there fast-infixed,
Nor could Alençon the deep-driven spear
Recover, nor the foeman from his grasp
Wrench the contended weapon. Fierce again
He lifts the mace, that on the ashen hilt
Fell full; it shiver'd, and the Frenchman held
A pointless truncheon. Where the Bastard fought,
The spear of Poynings, through his plated mail
Pierced, and against the iron fence beneath 3
Blunted its point. Again he thrust the spear;
At once Dunois on his broad buckler met
The unharming stroke, and aim'd with better hap
His javelin. Through his sword-arm did it pierce
Maugre the mail: hot from the streaming wound
He pluck'd the weapon forth, and in his breast
Clean through the hauberk drove.

But there the war
Raged fiercest where the martial Maiden moved
A minister of wrath; for thither throng'd
The bravest champions of the adverse host.
And on her either side two warriors stood
Protecting her, and aiming at her foes
Watchful their weapons, of themselves the while
Little regarding: on the one side he
Who to the English had her bidding borne;
Firmly he stood, untired and undismay'd,
Though many a spear against his burgonet
Was thrust, and on his arm the buckler hung

mour of a knight. Esquires might only wear a simple coat of mail without the hood and hose. Had this aristocratic distinction consisted in the ornamental part of the arms alone, it would not have been objectionable. In the enlightened and free states of Greece, every soldier was well provided with defensive arms. In Rome, a civic wreath was the reward of him who should save the life of a citizen. But to use the words of Dr. Gillies, "the miserable peasants of modern Europe are exposed without defence as without remorse, by the ambition of men, whom the Greeks would have styled tyrants.

Heavy, thick-bristled with the hostile shafts,
Even like a porcupine when in his rage
Roused, he collects within him all his force,
Himself a quiver. On the other hand
Competing with him to protect the Maid,
Conrade maintain'd the fight; at all points arm'd,
A jazerent of double mail he wore,

Its weight in little time had wearied one
Of common strength; but unencumber'd he
And unfatigued, alertly moved in it,
And wielded with both hands a battle-axe,
Which gave no second stroke; for where it fell,
Not the strong buckler nor the plated mail
Might save, nor crested casque. On Molyn's head,

As at the Maid he aim'd his javelin,
Forceful it fell, and shiver'd with the blow
The iron helm, and to his brain-pan drove
The fragments. At his fall the enemy,
Stricken with instantaneous fear, gave way.
That instant Conrade, with an active bound,
Sprung on the battlements; and there he stood,
Keeping the ascent. The herald and the Maid
Follow'd, and soon the exulting cry of France
Along the lists was heard, as there they saw
Her banner planted. Gladdisdale beheld,
And hastened from his well-defended post,
That where immediate danger more required
There he might take his stand; against the Maid
He bent his way, and hoped one happy blow
Might end at once the new-raised hopes of France,
And by her death, to the English arms their old
Ascendancy restore. Nor did not Joan
Areed his purpose, but with lifted shield
Prepared she stood, and poised her sparkling spear.
The English chief came on; he raised his mace;
With circling force the iron weight swung high,
And Gladdisdale with his collected strength

sir Lancelot de Lorris, with ten or twelve more, who all wondered what this knight designed to do. He for his part being close at the barriers said unto them, Gentlemen, I am come hither to visit you, and because I see you will not come forth of your barriers to me, I will come in to you, if I may, and prove my knighthood against you. Win me if you can.' And with that he leaped over the bars, and began to lay about him like a lion, he at them and they at him; so that he alone fought thus against them all for near the space of an hour, and hurt several of them. And all the while those of the town beheld with much delight from the walls and

2 "Earls and dukes frequently wore their coronets on the crests of their helmets. At the battle of Agincourt Henry wore "a bright helmet, whereupon was set a crowne of gold, repleate with pearle and precious stones, marvellous rich."Stowe.

3 A breast-plate was sometimes worn under the hauberk. 4 The nature of this barrier has been explained in a previous note. The possibility of leaping upon it is exemplified in the following adventure, which is characteristic of the period in which it happened (1370).

"At that time there was done an extraordinary feat of arms by a Scotch knight, named sir John Assueton, being one of those men of arms of Scotland, who had now entered king Edward's pay. This man left his rank with his spear in his hand, his page riding behind him, and went towards the barriers of Noyon, where he alighted, saying, Here, hold my horse, and stir not from hence;' and so he came to the barriers. There were there at that time sir John de Roye, and

courage; but they offered not to do him any hurt, as they might very easily have done, if they had been minded to cast stones or darts at him: but the French knights charged them to the contrary, saying how they should let them alone to deal with him.' When matters had continued thus about an hour, the Scotch page came to the barriers with his master's horse in his hand, and said in his language, Sir, pray come away, it is high time for you to leave off now : for the army is marched off out of sight.' The knight heard his man, and then gave two or three terrible strokes about him to clear the way, and so, armed as he was, he leaped back again over the barriers and mounted his horse, having not received any hurt; and turning to the Frenchman, said,

Adieu, sirs! I thank you for my diversion.' And with that he rode after his man upon the spur towards the army."Joshua Barnes, p. 801.

5" Le massue est un bâton gros comme le bras, ayant à l'un de ses bouts une forte courroie pour tenir l'arme et l'empêcher de glisser, et à l'autre trois chainons de fer, auxquels pend un

Impell'd the blow.

The man of lowly line
That instant rush'd between, and rear'd his shield
And met the broken stroke, and thrust his lance
Clean through the gorget of the English knight.
A gallant man, of no ignoble line,

Was Gladdisdale. His sires had lived in peace;
They heap'd the hospitable hearth, they spread
The feast, their vassals loved them, and afar
The traveller told their fame. In peace they died,
And to their ancient burial-place were borne
With book and bell, torches, and funeral chaunt;
And duly for their souls the neighbouring monks
The solemn office sung. Now far away
Their offspring falls, the last of all his race,
Slain in a foreign land, and doom'd to share
A common grave.

Then terror seized the host,

Then appall'd

Their chieftain dead. And lo! where on the wall,
Maintain❜d of late by Gladdisdale so well,
The Son of Orleans stands, and sways around
His falchion, keeping thus at bay the foe,
Till on the battlements his comrades climb
And raise the shout of conquest.
The English fled: nor fled they unpursued.
For mingling with the foremost fugitives,
The gallant Conrade rush'd; and with the throng
The knights of France together o'er the bridge
Press'd forward. Nor the garrison within
Durst let the ponderous portcullis fall,
For in the entrance of the fort the fight
Raged fiercely, and together through the gate
The vanquish'd English and their eager foes
Pass'd in the flying conflict.

Well I deem

And wisely did the heroic Spaniard act
At Vera-Cruz, when he his yet sound ships
Dismantling, left no spot where treacherous fear
Might still with wild and wistful eye look back.
For knowing no retreat, his desperate troops
In conquest sought their safety; victors hence
At Tlascala, and o'er the Cholulans,
And by Otompan, on that bloody field
When Mexico her patriot thousands pour'd,
Fierce in vain valour, on their dreadful foes.
There was a portal in the English fort

Which open'd on the wall; a speedier path
In the hour of safety, whence the soldier's eye
Might overlook the river's pleasant course.
Fierce in the gate-way raged the deadly war;
For there the Maiden strove, and Conrade there,
And he of lowly line, bravelier than whom
Fought not in that day's battle. Of success
Desperate, for from above the garrison
(Lest upon friend and enemy alike

The indiscriminating blow should light,)
Could give no aid, the English of that way
Bethought them; by that egress they forsook
St. Loup's, and the Orleanites with shouts of joy
Beheld the Virgin's banner on its height
In triumph planted. Swift along the wall
The English haste to St. John's neighbouring fort,
Flying with fearful speed. Nor from pursuit
The victors ceased, but with the fugitives
Mingled and waged the war; and combatants,
Lock'd in each other's grasp, together fell
Precipitate.

But foremost of the French,
Dealing destruction, Conrade made his way
Along the wall, and to the nearest fort
Came in pursuit; nor did not then the chief
What most might serve bethink him; but he took
His stand in the portal, and first looking back,
Lifted his voice aloud; three times he raised,
Cheering and calling on his countrymen,
That voice o'er all the uproar heard afar,
Then to the strife addrest himself, assail'd
By numerous foes, who clamorously now
Menaced his single person. He the while
Stood firm, not vainly confident, or rash,
But in his vantage more than his own strength
Trusting; for narrow was the portal way,

To one alone fit passage, from above

Not overbrow'd by jutting parapet, 2

Whence aught might crush him. He in double mail
Was arm'd; a massy burgonet, well tried

In many a hard-fought field, helming his head;
And fenced with iron plates, a buckler broad
Hung from his neck. Nor to dislodge the chief
Could the English bring their numbers, for the way
By upward steps presented from the fort

The arms of the Medici family "are romantically referred to Averardo de Medici, a commander under Charlemagne, who for his valour in destroying the gigantic plunderer Mugello, by whom the surrounding country was laid waste, was honoured with the privilege of bearing for his arms six palle or balls, as characteristic of the iron balls that hung from the mace of his fierce antagonist, the impression of which remained on his shield." -Roscoe.

Scudery enumerates the mace among the instruments of war, in a passage whose concluding line may vie with any bathos of sir Richard Blackmore.

"La confusément frappent de toutes parts

Pierres, piques, espieux, masses, fièches et dards, Lances et javelots, sabres et marteaux d'armes, Dangereuses instruments des guerrieres alarmes."

Alaric.

"Vitruvius observes, in treating upon fortified walls, that near the towers the walls should be cut within-side the breadth of the tower, and that the ways broke in this manner should

extremities, without being made fast with iron; that in case the enemy should make himself master of any part of the wall, the besieged might remove this wooden bridge, and thereby prevent his passage to the other parts of the wall and into the towers."-Rollin.

The precaution recommended by Vitruvius had not been observed in the construction of the English walls. On each side of every tower, a small door opened upon the wall; and the garrison of one tower are represented in the poem as flying by this way from one to shelter themselves in the other. With the enterprising spirit and the defensive arms of chivalry, the subsequent events will not be found to exceed probability.

2 The machicolation: a projection over the gate-way of a town or castle, contrived for letting fall great weights, scalding water, &c. on the heads of any assailants who might have got close to the gate. "Machecollare, or machecoulare," says Coke," is to make a warlike device over a gate or other passage like to a grate, through which scalding water, or ponderous or offensive things, may be cast upon the assaylants."

E

A narrow ascent, where one alone could meet
The war. Yet were they of their numbers proud,
Though useless numbers were in that strait path,
Save by assault unceasing to out-last

A single warrior, who at length must sink
Fatigued with slaughter, and by toil foredone
Succumb.

There was amid the garrison

A gallant knight who at Verneuil had fought,
And good renown for feats of arms achieved
Had gain'd in that day's victory. For him
His countrymen made way, and he his lance
Thrust upward against Conrade, who perceived
The intent, and as the weapon touch'd his shield
Smote with his battle-axe the ashen shaft;
Then plucking from the shield the severed head,
He threw it back. 1 With wary bend the foe
Shrunk from the flying death; yet not in vain
From that strong hand the fate-fraught weapon flew :
Full on the corslet of a meaner man

It fell, and pierced him where the heaving lungs,
In vital play distended, to the heart

Roll back their brighten'd tide: from the deep wound
The red blood gush'd; prone on the steps he fell,
And in the strong convulsive grasp of death
Grasp'd his long pike. Of unrecorded name
The soldier died; and yet he left behind
One who then never said her daily prayers
Of him forgetful; who to every tale
Of the distant war lending an eager ear,
Grew pale and trembled. At her cottage door
The wretched one shall sit, and with fix'd eye
Gaze on the path, where on his parting steps
Her last look hung. Nor ever shall she know
Her husband dead, but cherishing a hope,
Whose falsehood inwardly she knows too well,
Feel life itself with that false hope decay;
And wake at night from miserable dreams
Of his return, and weeping o'er her babe,
Too surely think that soon that fatherless child
Must of its mother also be bereft.

Dropping his broken spear, the exasperate knight Drew forth the sword, and up the steps advanced, Like one who disregarded in his strength The enemy's vantage, destined to abide That rashness dearly. Conrade stood prepared, Held forth his buckler, and his battle-axe Uplifted. Where the buckler was beneath Rounded, the falchion struck, a bootless blow To pierce its plated folds; more forcefully Full on his crested helm the battle-axe Descended, driving in both crest and crown; From the knight's eyes at that death-stroke, the blood

I have met with one instance in English history, and only one, of throwing the spear after the manner of the ancients. It is in Stowe's chronicle. "1442. The 30th of January, a challenge was done in Smithfield within lists, before the king; the one sir Philip de Beawse of Arragon a knight, and the other an esquire of the king's house called John Ausley or Astley. These comming to the fielde, tooke their tents, and there was the knight's sonne made knight by the king, and so brought again to his father's tent. Then the heralds of armes called them by name to doe their battel, and so they came both, all armed, with their weapons; the knight came with his sword drawn, and the esquire with his speare. The

Started; with blood the chambers of the brain
Were fill'd; his breast-plate with convulsive throes
Heaved as he fell. Victorious, he the prize

At many a tournament had borne away
In mimic war; happy, if so content
With bloodless glory, he had never left
The mansion of his sires.

But terrified

The English stood, nor durst adventure now
Near that death-doing foe. Amid their host
Was one who well could from the stubborn yew
Send his sharp shafts; well skill'd in wood-craft he,
Even as the merry outlaws who their haunts
In Sherwood held, and bade their bugles rouse
The sleeping stag, ere on the web-woven grass
The dew-drops sparkled to the rising sun.
He safe in distance at the warrior aim'd
The feather'd dart; with force he drew the bow;
Loud on his bracer struck the sounding string,
And swift and strong the well-fledged arrow flew.
It pierced the shield, and reach'd, but reach'd in vain,
The breast-plate: while he fitted to the bow
A second arrow, Conrade raised his voice,
Shouting for timely succour to secure
The entrance he had gain'd. Nor was the call
Unheard, nor unobey'd; responsive shouts
Announced assistance nigh; the Orleanites
From St. Loup's captured fort along the wall
Sped to support him; cheering was the sound
Of their near footsteps to the chief; he drew
His falchion forth, and down the steps he went.
Then terror seized the English, for their foes
Press'd thro' the open portal, and the sword
Of Conrade was among them making way.
Not to the Trojans when their ships were lost
More dreadful the Rutilian hero seem'd,
Then hoping well to right himself in arms;
Nor with more fury through the streets of Paris
Rush'd the fierce king of Sarza, Rodomont,
Clad in his dragon mail.

Like some tall rock,
Around whose billow-beaten foot the waves
Spend their vain force, unshaken Conrade stood,
When drawing courage from despair the foe
Renew'd the contest. Through the throng he hew'd
His way unhurt amid the arrowy shower,
Though on his shield and helm the darts fell fast,
As the sear'd leaves that from the trembling tree
The autumnal whirlwind shakes. Nor did he pause
Till to the gate he came, and with strong hand
Seized on the massy bolts. These as he drew,
Full on his helm a weighty English sword
Descended; swift he turn'd to wreak his wrath,
When lo! the assailant gasping on the ground,

esquire cast his speare against the knight, but the knight avoiding it with his sword, cast it to the ground. Then the esquire took his axe and went against the knight suddenly, on whom he stroke many strokes, hard and sore upon his basenet, and on his hand, and made him loose and let fall his axe to the ground, and brast up his limbes three times, and caught his dagger and would have smitten him in the face, for to have slaine him in the field; and then the king cried Hoo, and so they were departed and went to their tents, and the king dubbed John Astley knight for his valiant torney, and the knight of Arragon offered his armes at Windsor."

2 The corslet was chiefly worn by pikemen.