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• Glory to those who in their country's cause
Fall in the field of battle I Citizens, -
I stand not here to mourn these gallant men,
Our comrades, nor with vain and idle phrase
Of pity and compassion, to console
The friends who loved them. They, indeed, who fall
Beneath oppression's banner, merit well
Our pity; may the God of PEAce And love
Be merciful to those blood-guilty men
Who came to desolate the realm of France,
To make us bow the knee, and crouch like slaves
Before a tyrant's footstool! Give to these,
And to their wives and orphan little-ones
That on their distant father vainly cry
For bread, give these your pity!... Wretched men,
Forced or inveigled from their homes, or driven
By need and hunger to the trade of blood;
Or, if with free and willing mind they came,
Most wretched ... for before the Eternal Throne
They stand, as hireling murderers arraign'd.
But our dead comrades for their freedom fought;
Nearts they needed, nor the specious bribes

of promise, to allure them to this fight,

This holy warfare! Them their parents sent,
And as they raised their streaming eyes to heaven,
Bade them go forth, and from the ruffian's sword
Save their grey hairs: these men their wives sent out,
Fix'd their last kisses on their armed hands,”9
And bade them in the battle think they fought
For them and for their babes. Thus roused to rage
By every milder feeling, they rush'd forth;
They fought, they conquer'd. To this high-rear'd mound
The men of Orleans in the days to come
Shail bring their boys, and tell them of the deeds
Their countrymen achieved, and bid them learn
Like them to love their country, and like them
Should wild oppression pour again its tide
Of desolation, to step forth and stem,
Fearless, the furious torrent. Men of France!
Mourn not for these our comrades; boldly they

| Fought the good fight, and that Eternal One, | Who bade the angels harbinger his word

With a peace on earth,” rewards them. We survive,
Honouring their memories to avenge their fall
Upon the invading host; in vain the foe
Madly will drain his wealth and waste his blood
To conquer this vast realm! for, easier were it
To hurl the rooted mountain from its base,
Than force the yoke of slavery upon men
Determined to be free! Yes... let them rage,
And drain their country's wealth, and waste her blood,
And pour their hireling thousands on our coasis;
Sublime amid the storm shall France arise,
And, like the rock amid surrounding waves,
Repel the rushing ocean ... she shall wield
The thunder . . . she shall blast her despot focs.”


Thus to the martyrs in their country's cause
The Maiden gave their fame, and when she ceased,
Such murmur from the multitude arose,
As when at twilight hour the summer breeze

Moves o'er the elmy vale: there was not one
Who mourn'd with feeble sorrow for his friend,
Slain in the fight of freedom; or if chance
Remembrance with a tear suffused the eye,
The patriot's joy flash'd through.
And now the rites
Of sepulture perform'd, the hymn to Heaven
They chaunted. To the town the Maid return'd,
Dunois with her, and Richemont, and the man,
Conrade, whose converse most the Virgin loved.
They of pursuit and of the future war
Sat communing; when loud the trumpet's voice
Proclaim d approaching herald.
« To the Maid,”
Exclaim'd the messenger, s and thee, Dunois,
Son of the Chief he loved Du Chastel sends
Greeting. The aged warrior hath not spared
All active efforts to partake your toil,
And serve his country; and though, late arrived,
He share not in the fame your arms acquire,
His heart is glad that he is late arrived,
And France preserved thus early. He were here
To join your host, and follow on their flight,
But Richemont is his foe. To that high lord
Thus says my master: We though each to each
Be hostile, are alike the embattled sons -
Of this our common country. Do thou join
The conquering troops, and prosecute suceess:
I will the while assault what guarded towns
Bedford yet holds in Orleannois: one day,
Perhaps the Constable of France may learn
He wrong'd Du Chastel.”
As the herald spake,
The crimson current rush'd to Richemout's cheek:
“Tell to thy master,” eager he replied,
* I am the foe of those court parasites
Who poison the King's ear. Him who shall serve
Our country in the field, I hold my friend:
Such may Du Chastel prove.”
So said the Chief,
And pausing as the herald went his way,
Gazed on the Virgin. “ Maiden! if aright
I deem, thou dost not with a friendly eye
Scan my past deeds.”
Then o'er the Damsel's cheek
A faint glow spread. “True, chieftain! » she replied,
« Report bespeaks thee laughty, of thy power
Jealous, and to the shedding human blood
& Maid of Orleans! » he exclaim'd,
“Should the wolf slaughter thy defenceless flock,
Were it a crime if thy more mighty force
Destroyed the fell destroyer . If thy hand
Had picreed the ruflian as he burst thy door
Prepared for midnight murder, wouldst thou feel
The weight of blood press heavy on thy soul?
I slew the wolves of state, the murderers
Of thousands. JOAN! when rusted in its sheath,
The sword of justice hung, blamest thou the man
That lent his weapon for the virtuous deed?"

Conrade replied: « Nay, Richemont, it were well
To pierce the ruffian as he burst thy doors;
But if he bear the plunder safely thence,
And thou shouldst meet him on the future day,
Vengeance must not be thiue: there is the law

To punish; and if thy impatient hand,
Unheard and uncondemn'd should execute
Death on the culprit, law will not allow
The judge in the accuser!"

“Thou hast said
Right wisely, warrior;" cried the Constable;
“But there are guilty ones above the law,
Men whose black crimes exceed the utmost bound
of private guilt: court vermin that buzz round,
And fly-blow the King's ear, and make him waste,
In this most perilous time, his people's wealth
And blood: immersed one while in criminal sloth,
Heedless though ruin threat the realm they rule;
And now projecting some mad enterprise,
To certain slaughter send their wretched troops.
These are the men that make the King suspect
His wisest, faithfullest, best counsellors;
And for themselves, and their dependants, seize
All places, and all profits; and they wrest
To their own ends the statutes of the land,
Or safely break them; thus, or indolent,
Or active, ruinous alike to France.
wisely thou sayest, warrior that the law
Should strike the guilty; but the voice of justice
Cries out, and brings conviction as it cries,
Whom the laws cannot reach the dagger should.”

The Maid replied: “I blame thee not, O Chief!
If, reasoning to thine own conviction thus,
Thou didst, well satisfied, destroy these men
Above the law; but if a meaner one,
Self-constituting him the minister
Of justice to the death of these bad men
Had wrought the deed, him would the laws have seized,
And doom'd a murderer: thee, thy power preserv'd :
And what hast thou exampled thou hast taught
All men to execute what deeds of blood
Their will or passion sentence: right and wrong
Confounding thus, and making power, of all,
Sole arbiter. Thy acts were criminal:
Yet, Richemont, for thou didst them self-approved,
I may not blame the agent. Trust me, Chief
That when a people sorely are opprest,
The hour of violence will come too soon."
He best meanwhile performs the patriot's part,
Who, in the car of rage and faction, breathes
The healing words of love.”

Thus communed thcy.
Meantime, all panic-struck and terrified,
The English urge their flight; by other thoughts
Possess'd than when, elate with arrogance,
They dreamt of conquest, and the crown of France
At their disposal. Of their hard-fought fields,
Of glory hardly-earn'd, and lost with shame,
Of friends and brethren slaughter d, and the fate
Threatening themselves, they brooded sadly, now
Repentant late and vainly. They whom fear
Erst made obedient to their conquering march,
At their defeat exultant, wreak what ills
Their power allow'd. Thus many a league they fled,
Marking their path with ruin, day by day
Leaving the weak and wounded destitute
To the foe's mercy; thinking of their home,
Though to that far-off prospect scarcely Hope
Could raise her sickly eye. Oh then what joy
Inspired anew their bosoms, when like clouds

Moving in shadows down the distant hill,
They mark'd their coming succours! In each heart
Doubt raised a busy tumult; soon they knew
The friendly standard, and a general shout
Burst from the joyful ranks: yet came no joy
To Talbot: he, with dark and downward brow,
Mused sternly, till at length aroused to hope
Of vengeance, welcoming his warrior son,
He brake a sullen smile.”7°
a Son of my age!
Welcome, young Talbot, to thy first of fields.
Thy father bids thee welcome, though disgraced,
Bafiled, and flying from a woman's arm!
Yes, by my former glories, from a woman!
The scourge of France! the conqueror of men!
Flying before a woman! Son of Talbot,
Had the winds wafted thee a few days sooner,
Thou hadst seen me high in honour, and thy name
Alone had scatter'd armies; yet, my child,
I bid thee welcome! Rest we here our flight,
And lift again the sword.”
So spake the Chief;
And well he counsell'd: for not yet the sun
Had reach'd meridian height, when, o'er the plain
Of Patay, they beheld the troops of France
Speed in pursuit. Soon as the troops of France
Beheld the dark battalions of the foe
Shadowing the distant plain, a general shout
Burst from the expectant host, and on they prest,
Elate of heart and eager for the fight,
With clamours ominous of victory.
Thus urging on, one from the adverse host
Advanced to meet them: they his garb of peace
Knew, and they stay'd them as the herald spake
His bidding to the chieftains: « Sirs 1 m he cried,
• I bear defiance to you from the earl
William of Suffolk. Here on this fit plain,
He wills to give you battle, power to power,
So please you, on the morrow.”
« On the morrow
We will join battle then,” replied Dunois,
“And God befriend the right! » Then on the herald
A robe rich-furr'd and broider'd he bestow'd,'7"
A costly guerdon. Through the army spread
The unwelcome tidings of delay: possess'd
With agitating hopes they felt the hours
Pass heavily; but soon the night wan'd on,
And the loud trumpets' blare from broken sleep
Roused them; a second time the thrilling blast
Bade them be arm’d, and at the third deep sound”
They ranged them in their ranks. From man to man
With pious haste hurried the confessor
To shrieve them, 7% lest with souls all unprepared
They to their death might go. Dunois meantime
Rode through the host; the shield of dignity '74
Before him borne, and in his hand he held
The white wand of command. The open helm
Disclosed that eye which temper'd the strong lines
Of steady valour to obedient awe
Winning the will's assent. To some he spake
Of late earn'd glory; others, new to war,
He bade bethink them of the feats achieved
When Talbot, recreant to his former fame,
Fled from beleaguerd Orleans. Was there one
whom he had known in battle? By the hand
Ilim did he take, and bid him on that day


Summon his wonted courage, and once more Support his chief and comrade. Happy he Who caught his glance, or from the chieftain's lips Heard his own name! joy more inspiriting Fills not the Persian's soul, when sure he deems That Mithra hears propitiously his prayer, And o'er the scatter'd cloud of morning pours A brighter ray responsive. Then the host Partook due food, this their last meal belike Receiving with such thoughtful doubts, as make The soul, impatient of uncertainty, Rush eager to the event; being thus prepared, Upon the grass the soldiers laid themselves, Each in his station, waiting there the sound Of onset, that in undiminish'd strength | Strong they might meet the battle: 17% silent some Pondering the chances of the coming day, Some whiling with a careless gaiety | The fearful pause of action. Thus the French in such array and high in confident hope | Await the signal; whilst with other thoughts, And ominous awe, once more the invading host Prepare them in the field of fight to meet | The Maid of God. Collected in himself | Appeard the might of Talbot. Through the ranks He stalks, reminds them of their former fame, Their native land, their homes, the friends they loved, All the rewards of this day's victory. but awe had fill'd the English, and they struck Flintly their shields; for they who had beheld | The hallow'd banner with celestial light Irradiate, and the mission'd Maiden's deeds, Felt their heart sink within them, at the thought Of her near vengeance; and the tale they told Housed such a tumult in the new-come troops, As fitted them for fear. The aged Chief Beheld their drooping valour: his stern brow, Wrinkled with thought, bewray'd his inward doubts: Still he was firm, though all might tly, resolved That Talbot should retrieve his old renown, | And period life with glory. Yet some hope | Inspired the veteran, as, across the plain Casting his eye, he mark'd the embattled strength | Of thousands; archers of unequalid skill, Brigans, and pikemen, from whose lifted points A fearful radiance flash'd, and young esquires, And high-born warriors, bright in blazond arms. Nor few, nor fameless were the English chiefs: In many a field victorious, he was there, The garter'd Fastolffe : Hungerford, and Scales, Men who had seen the hostile squadrons fly | Before the arms of England. Suffolk there, The haughty chieftain, tower'd; blest had he fallen Ere yet a courtly minion he was mark'd by public hatred, and the murderer's name: There too the son of Talbot, young in arms, Moved eager; he, at many a tournament, With matchless force, had pointed his strong lance, 0er all opponents victor: confident In strength, and jealous of his future fame, His heartbeat high for battle. Such array of marshall'd numbers fought not on the field Of Crecy, nor at Poictiers; nor such force led Henry to the fight of Agincourt

When thousands fell before him.

Onward move
The host of France. It was a goodly sight
To see the embattled pomp, as with the step
Of stateliness the barbed steeds came on:
To see the pennons rolling their long waves
Before the gale, and banners broad and bright 76
Tossing their blazonry; and high-plumed chiefs,
Vidames '77 and Seneschalls and Chastellains,
Gay with their buckler's gorgeous heraldry,
And silken surcoats to the mid-day sun
Glittering. 178

And now the knights of France dismount,

For not to brutal strength they deem'd it right
To trust their fame and their dear country's weal; '79
Rather to manly courage, and the glow
Of honourable thoughts, such as inspire
Ennobling energy. Unhorsed, unspurr'd,
Their javelins lessen'd to a wiclay length, 89
They to the foe advanced. The Maid alone,
Conspicuous on a coal-black courser, meets
The war. They moved to battle with such sound
As rushes o'er the vaulted firmament,
When from his seat, on the utmost verge of heaven
That overhangs the void, father of winds,
Hroesvelger starting, * rears his giant bulk,
And from his eagle pinions shakes the storm.

High on her stately steed the martial Maid
Rode foremost of the war: her burnish'd arms
Shone like the brook that o'er its pebbled course
Runs glittering gaily to the noon-tide sun.
The foaming courser, of her guiding hand
Impatient, smote the earth, and toss'd his mane,
And rear'd aloft with many a froward bound,
Then answer'd to the rein with such a step,
As, in submission, he were proud to shew
His unsubdued strength. Slow on the air
Waved the white plumes that shadow'd o'er her helm.
Even such, so fair, so terrible in arms
Pelides moved from Scyros, where, conceal’d
He lay obedient to his mother's fears,
A seemly virgin; thus the youth appeard
Terribly graceful, when upon his neck
Deidameia hung, and with a look
That spake the tumult of her troubled soul,
Fear, anguish, and upbraiding tenderness,
Gazed on the father of her unborn babe.

An English knight, who, eager for renown,
Late left his peaceful mansion, mark'd the Maid.
Her power miraculous, and fearful deeds,
He from the troops had heard incredulous,
And scoff'd their easy fears, and vow'd that he,
Proving the magic of this dreaded girl
In equal battle, would dissolve the spell,
Powerless opposed to valour. Forth he spurr'd
Before the ranks; she mark'd the coming foe,
And fix'd her lance in rest, and rush'd along.
Midway they met; full on her buckler driven,
Shiver'd the English spear: her better force
Drove the brave foeman senseless from his seat.
Headlong he fell, nor ever to the sense
Of shame awoke, for rushing multitudes
Soon crush'd the helpless warrior.
Then the Maid

Rode through the thickest battle: fast they fell,
Pierced by her forceful spear. Amid the troops
Plunged her strong war-horse, by the noise of arms
Elate and roused to rage, he tramples o'er,
Or with the lance protended from his front, ”
Thrusts down the thronging squadrons. Where she turns
The foe tremble and die. Such ominous fear
Seizes the traveller o'er the trackless sands,
Who marks the dread simoom across the waste
Sweep its swift pestilence: to earth he falls,
Nor dares give utterance to the inward prayer,
Deeming the genius of the desert breathes
The purple blast of death.

Such was the sound
As when the tempest, mingling air and sea,
Flies o'er the uptorn ocean : dashing high
Their foamy heads amid the incumbent clouds,
The madden'd billows, with their deafening roar,
Drown the loud thunder's peal. In every form
Of horror, death was there. They fall, transfix’d
By the random arrow's point, or fierce-thrust lance,
Or sink, all batter'd by the ponderous mace:
Some from their coursers thrown, lie on the earth,
Unwieldy in their arms, that, weak to save,
Protracted all the agonies of death.
But most the English fell, by their own fears
Betray'd, for fear the evil that it dreads
Increases. Even the chiefs, who many a day
Had met the war and conquer'd, trembled now,
Appall'd before the Maid miraculous.
As the blood-nurtured monarch of the wood,
That o'er the wilds of Afric, in his strength
Resistless ranges, when the mutinous clouds
Burst, and the lightnings through the midnight sky
Dart their red fires, lies fearful in his den,
And howls in terror to the passing storm.

But Talbot, fearless where the bravest fear'd,
Mow’d down the hostile ranks. The Chieftain stood
Like the strong oak, amid the tempest's rage,
That stands unharm d, and while the forest falls
Uprooted round, lifts his high head aloft,
And nods majestic to the warring wind.
He fought resolved to snatch the shield of death 183
And shelter him from shame. The very herd
Who fought near Talbot, though the Virgin's name
Made their cheeks pale, and drove the curdling blood
Back to their hearts, caught from his daring deeds
New force, and went like eaglets to the prey
Beneath their mother's wing: to him they look'd,
Their tower of strength, 84 and follow’d where his sword
Made through the foe a way. Nor did the son
Of Talbot shame his lineage; by his sire
Emulous he strove, like the young lionet
When first he bathes his murderous jaws in blood.
They fought intrepid, though amid their ranks
Fear and confusion triumph'd; for such dread
Possess'd the English, as the Etruscans felt,
When, self-devoted to the infernal gods,
The aweful Decius stood before the troops,
Robed in the victim garb of sacrifice,
And spake aloud, and call'd the shadowy powers
To give to Rome the conquest, and receive
Their willing prey; then rush'd amid the foe,
And dicq upon the hecatombs he slew.

But hope inspired the assailants. Xaintrailles there
Spread fear and death, and Orleans valiant son
Fought as when Warwick fled before his arm.
O'er all pre-eminent for hardiest deeds
Was Conrade. Where he drove his battle-axe,
Weak was the buckler or the helm's defence,
Hauberk, or plated mail, through all it pierced,
Resistless as the forked flash of heaven.
The death-doom'd foe, who mark'd the coming Chief,
Felt such a chill run through his shivering frame,
As the night-traveller of the Pyrenées,
Lone and bewilder'd on his wintery way,
When from the mountains round reverberates
The hungry wolves deep yell: on every side,
Their fierce eyes, gleaming as with meteor fires,
The famish'd troop come round: the affrighted mule
Snorts loud with terror, on his shuddering limbs
The big sweat starts, convulsive pant his sides,
Then on he rushes, wild in desperate speed.

Him dealing death an English knight beheld,
And spurr'd his steed to crush him : Conrade leap'd
Lightly aside, and through the warrior's greaves
Fix'd a deep wound: nor longer could the foe,
Tortured with anguish, guide his mettled horse,
Or his rude plunge endure; headlong he fell,
And perish'd. In his castle-hall was hung
On high his father's shield, with many a dint
Graced on the glorious field of Agincourt.
His deeds the son had heard; and when a boy,
Listening delighted to the old man's tale,
Ilis little hand would lift the weighty spear
In warlike pastine: he had left behind
An infant offspring, and did fondly deem
He too in age the exploits of his youth
Should tell, and in the stripling's bosom rouse
The fire of glory.
Conrade the next foe
Smote where the heaving membrane separates
The chambers of the trunk. The dying man
In his lord's castle dwelt, for many a year,
A well-beloved servant: he could sing
Carols for Shrove-tide, or for Candlemas,
Songs for the wassel, and when the boar's head,”
Crown'd with gay garlands and with rosemary,
Smok'd on the Christmas board : he went to war
Following the lord he loved, and saw him fall
Beneath the arm of Comrade, and expired,
Slain on his master's body.
Nor the fight
Was doubtful long. Fierce on the invading host
Press the French troops impetuous, as of old,
When, pouring o'er his legion slaves on Greece,
The eastern despot bridged the Hellespont,
The rushing sea against the mighty pile
Roll'd its full weight of waters; far away
The fearful Satrap mark'd on Asia's coasts
The floating fragments, and with ominous fear
Trembled for the great king.
Still Talbot strove,
His foot firm planted, his uplifted shield
Fencing that breast which never vet had known
The throb of fear, But when the warrior's eye,

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Striking with feebler force in backward step,

Then o'er his cheek he felt the patriot flush

Of shame, and loud he lifted up his voice,
And cried, a Fly, cravens ! leave your aged chief

| Here in the front to perish his old limbs

Are not like yours so supple in the flight.”

Go tell your countrymen how ye escaped
When Talbot fell lo

- In vain the warrior spake, In the uproar of the fight his voice was lost; And they, the nearest, who had heard, beheld The martial Maid approach, and every thought Was overwhelm d in terror. But the son Of Talbot mark'd her thus across the plain | Careering fierce in conquest, and the hope Of glory rose within him. Her to meet He spurr'd his horse, by one decisive deed 0 to retrieve the battle, or to fall With honour. Each beneath the other's blow | bowd down; their lances shiver'd with the shock: 'To earth their coursers fell: at once they rose, tlefroin the saddle-bow his falchion caught "7 Rolling to closer combat, and she bared The lightning of her sword.” In vain the youth soyd to pierce those arms which even the power of time was weak to injure: she the while - Through many a wound beheld her foeman's blood one fast. " Yet save thee, warrior!» cried the Maid, "Me thou canst not destroy: be timely wise, And live!» He answer'd not, but lifting high He weapon, drove with fierce and forceful arm full on the Virgin's helm : fire from her eyes Flashd with the stroke; one step she back recoil'd, Then in his breast plunged deep the sword of death.

Talbot beheld his fall; on the next foe, With rage and anguish wild, the warrior turn'd; His ill-directed weapon to the earth "ove down the unwounded Frank: he lifts the sword, And through his all-in-vain imploring hands "leaves the poor suppliant. On that dreadful day The sword of Talbot, 89 clog;d with hostile gore, Made good its vaunt. Amid the heaps his arm "ad slain, the Chieftain stood and sway’d around "is furious strokes, nor ceased he from the fight, Though now discomfited the English troops Fled fast, all panic-struck and spiritless; | And minoling with the routed, Fastolffe fled, Fastoffe, all fierce and haughty as he was, 19° Fake to his former fame; for he beheld The Maiden rushing onward, and such fear Ran through his frame, as thrills the African, When, grateful solace in the sultry hour, he rises on the buoyant billow's breast, If then his eye behold the monster shark Cape eager to devour. But Talbot now *"ment paused, for bending thitherwards i. mark'd a warrior, such as well might ask "is utmost force of strong and stately port The onward foeman moved, and bore on high **le-axe, '0' in many a field of blood known by the English Chieftain. Over heaps Of shughterd, strode the Frank, and bade the troops t tour. from the bold Earl: then Conrade spake: "*" is thy valour, Talbot Look around,

See where thy squadrons fly! but thou shalt lose No glory, by their cowardice subdued, Performing well thyself the soldier's part.”

“And let them fly a the indignant Earl exclaim'd,
“And let them fly! but bear thou witness, Chief:
That guiltless of this day's disgrace, I fall.
But, Frenchman! Talbot will not tamely fall,
Nor unrevenged.»
So saying, for the war
He stood prepared: nor now with heedless rage
The champions fought, for either knew full well
His foeman's prowess: now they aim the blow
Insidious, with quick change then drive the steel
Fierce on the side exposed. The unfaithful arms
Yield to the strong-driven edge; the blood streams down
Their batter'd mails. With swift eye Conrade mark'd
The lifted buckler, and beneath impell'd
His battle-axe; that instant on his helm
The sword of Talbot fell, and with the blow
Shiver d. , Yet yield thee, Englishman to exclaim'd
The generous Frank; a vain is this bloody strife:
Me shouldst thou conquer, little would my death
Avail thee, weak and wounded !»
* Long enough
Talbot has lived,” replied the sullen Chief:
“His hour is come; yet shalt not thou survive
To glory in his fall!" So, as he spake,
He lifted from the ground a massy spear,
And rush'd again to battle.
Now more fierce
The conflict raged, for, careless of himself,
And desperate, Talbot fought. Collected still
Was Conrade. Wheresoe'er his foeman aim'd
His barbed javelin, there he swung around
The guardian shield: the long and vain assault
Exhausted Talbot now ; foredone with toil,
He bare his buckler low for weariness,
His buckler now splinter'd with many a stroke 9.
Fell piecemeal; from his riven arms the blood
Stream'd fast: and now the Frenchman's battle-axe
Drove unresisted through the shieldless mail.
Backward the Frank recoil'd. “Urge not to death
This fruitless contest!” he exclaim d . “Oh Chief!
Are there not those in England who would feel
Keen anguish at thy loss? a wife perchance
who trembles for thy safety, or a child
Needing a father's care!»
Then Talbot's heart
Smote him. “ Warriorly, he cried, “if thou dost think
That life is worth preserving, hic thee hence,
And save thyself: I loathe this useless talk.”

So saying, he address'd him to the fight,
Impatient of existence: from their arms
Fire slash'd, and quick they panted; but not long
Endured the deadly combat. With full force
Down through his shoulder even to the chest,
Conrade impell'd the ponderous battle-axe;
And at that instant underneath his shield
Received the hostile spear. Prone fell the Earl,
Even in his death rejoicing that no foe
Should live to boast his fall.
Then with faint hand
Conradc unlaced his helm, and from his brow
Wiping the cold dews, ominous of death,

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