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Who made me to be happy.'
To hear this maiden call on you in vain · Did that God,
For aid, and see her drage'd, and hear her scream Cried Conrade,' form thy heart for happiness, In the blood-reeking soldier's lustful arms, When Desolation royally careers
Think that there are such horrors;'that even now, Over thy wretched country? did that God
Some city flames, and haply as in Roan, Form thee for Peace when Slaughter is abroad,
Some famish d babe on his dead mother's breast When her brooks run with blood, and Rape, and Murder, | Yet hangs and pulls for food !12 woe be to those Stalk through her flaming towns ? live thou in peace, By whom the evil comes! and woe to him, .. Young man! my heart is human: I do feel
For little less his guilt, .. who dwells in peace,
« When we had all betaken us to rest, That I did tremble as I listend to him:
Sleepless I lay, and in my mind revolved And in my heart tumultuous thoughts arose
The high-soul'd warrior's speech. Theo Madelon Of high achievements, indistinct, and wild,
Rose in remembrance; over her the grave And vast, yel such they were as made me pant
Had closed; her sorrows were noi register'd As though by some divinity possess'd.
In the rolls of Fame: but when the tears run down
The widow's cheek, shall not her cry be heard « But is there not some duly due to those
In Heaven against the oppressor? will not God We love?' said Theodore; · Is there an employ In sunder smite the unmerciful, and break More righteous than to cheer declining age,
The sceptre of the wicked ?13., thoughits like these And thus with filial tenderness repay
Possess'd my soul, till at the break of day
I slept; nor did my heated brain repose
Even then, for visions, sent, as I believe, « Aye, hard indeed, to part from those we love; From the Most High, arose. A high-tower'd town And I have suffer'd that severest pang.
Hemm'd in and girl with enemies, I saw, I have left an aged mother; I have left
Where Famine on a heap of carcasses, One, upon whom my heart has center'd all
Half envious of the unulterable feast, Its dearest, best, affections. Should I live
Mark'd the gorged raven clog his beak with gore. Till France shall see the blessed hour of Peace,
I turn'd me then to the besieger's camp. I shall return: my heart will be content,
And there was revelry: the loud lewd laugh My highest duties will be well discharged
Burst on mine ear, and I beheld the chiefs
Sit at their feast, and plan the work of death.
Reproaching Heaven,... lo! from the clouds an arm If I should soften down my rigid nature
As of the avenging Angel was put forth, Even to inglorious ease, to honour me.
And from his hand a sword, like lightning, fell. But pure of heart and high of self-esteem I must be honour'd by myself: all else,
« From that night I could feel my
burthen'd soul The breath of Fame, is as the unsteady wind
Heaving beneath incumbent Deily.
I sale in silence, musing on the days
When every bodily sense is as it slepi,
Dimly discover'd throng'd the twilight air. To gore the finely-fibred human frame!
The neighbours wonder'd at the sudden change, I could not strike a lamb.
And call'd me crazed; and my dear Uncle, too,
Would sit and gaze upon me wistfully,
And in his
heart Spares not grey age, and mocks the infaai's shriek Sometimes misgave me. I had told him all, As it doth writhe upon his cursed lance,
The mighty future labouring in my breast, And forces to his foul embrace, the wife
But that the hour methought not yet was come. Even on her murder'd husband's gasping corse! Almighty God! I should not be a man
« At length I heard of Orleans, by the foe If I did let one weak and pitiful feeling
Wall'd in from human succour; there all thoughts, Make mine arm impotent to cleave him down.
All hopes were turnd; that bulwark once beat down, Think well of this, young Man!'10 he cried, and seized All was the invaders'. Now my troubled soul The hand of Theodore; ' think well of this,
Grew more disturb'd, and, shunning every eye, As you are human, as you hope to live
I loved to wander where the forest shade In peace, amid the dearest joys of home;
Frown'd deepest; there on mightiest deeds to brood Think well of this! you have a teoder mother, Of shadowy vastness, such as made my
heart As you do wish that she may die in peace,
Throb loud : anon I paused, and in a state As you would even to madness agonize
Of half expectance, listend to the wind.
I look'd up,
« There is a fountain in the forest called
Aye, Chieftain, and the world The Fountain of the Fairies : 14 when a child
Shall soon believe my mission; for the Lord With a delightful wonder I have heard
Will raise up indignation, and pour out Tales of the Ellin tribe who on its banks
His wrath, and they shall perish who oppress.»17
And now beneath the horizon westering slow
Had sunk the orb of day: o'er all the vale His boy, and, showing him the green-sward mark'd
A purple softness spread, save where the tree With darker circlets, says their midnight dance
Its giant shadow stretch'd, or winding stream Hath tracd the ring, and bids him spare the tree.
Mirror'd the light of Heaven, still traced distinct Fancy bad cast a spell upon the place,
When twilight dimly shrouded all beside. And made it holy; and the villagers
A grateful coolness freshen'd the calm air, Would say that never evil thing approach'd
And the hoarse grasslioppers their evening song Unpunish'd there. The strange and fearful pleasure
Sung shrill and ceaseless, 18 as the dews of night Which fill'd me by that solitary spring,
Descended. On their way the travellers wend, Ceased not in riper years; and now it woke
Cheering the road with converse, till at length Deeper delight and more mysterious awe.
They mark a cottage lamp, whose steady light
Shone through the lattice: thitherward they turn. Lonely the forest spring: a rocky hill
There came an old man forth : his thin
Jocks Rises beside it, and an aged yew
Waved on the night breeze, and on his shrunk face Bursts from the rifted crag that overbrows
The characters of age were written deep. The waters; cavernd there unseen and slow
Them, louting low with rustic courtesy, And silently they well. The adder's tongue,
He welcomed in; on the white-ember'd hearth Rich with the wrinkles of its glossy green,
Heapt up fresh fuel, then with friendly care Hangs down its long lank leaves, whose wavy dip Spread out the homely board, and fill'd the bowl Just breaks the tranquil surface. Ancient woods
With the red produce of the vine that arch'd Bosom the quiet beauties of the place;
His evening seat; they of the plain repast Nor ever sound profanes it, save such sounds
Parlook, and quaffd the pure and pleasant draught. As Silence loves to hear, the passing wind, Or the low murmuring of the stream scarce heard. Strangers, your fare is homely,» said their Host; A blessed spot! oh how my soul enjoy'd
But such it is as we poor countrymen Its holy quietness, with what delight
Earn with hard toil : in faith ye are welcome to it! Escaping from mankind I hastend there
I too have borne a lance in younger days; To solitude and freedom! thitherward
And would that I were young again to meet On a spring eve I had betaken me,
These haughty English in the field of fight! And there I sate, and mark'd the deep red clouds Such as I was when on the fatal plain Gather before the wind .. the rising wind,
Of Agiocourt I met them.» Whose sudden gusts, each wilder than the last,
« Wert thou, then, Appeard to rock my senses. Soon the night
A sharer in that dreadful day's defeal?» Darken'd around, and the large rain drops fell
Exclaim'd the Bastard : « Didst thou know the Lord Heavy; anon tempestuously the gale
Of Orleans?» Howl'd o'er the wood. Methought the heavy rain
« Know him !» cried the veteran, Fell with a grateful coolness on my head,
« I saw him ere the bloody fight began And the boarse dash of waters, and the rush
Riding from rank to rank, bis beaver up, Of wiods that mingled with the forest roar,
The long lance quivering in his mighty grasp. Made a wild music. On a rock I sat;
His eye was wrathful to an enemy, The glory of the tempest fill'd my soul;
But for his countrymen it had a smile And when the thunders peald, and the long flash
Would win all hearts. Looking at thee, Sir Knight, Hung durable in heaven, and on my sight
Methinks I see him now; such was his eye,
« No tongue but speaketh honour of that name!» At length a light
Exclaimed Dunois. « Strangers and countrymen
The pilgrim when he saw bis towers rejoiced,
For he had heard in other lands the fame
Losing all hope because my arm so long God was within me; as I felt, 1 spake,
Hath fail'd to win his liberty!» And he believed.
His head away to hide the burning shame
hairs Go to the grave in peace.”
«I would fain live To see that day,» replied their aged host : « How would my heart leap to behold again The gallant generous chieftain! I fought by bim When all the hopes of victory were lost, And down his batter'd arms the blood stream'd fast From many a wound. Like wolves they hemm'd us in, Fierce in unhoped-for conquest : all around Our dead and dying countrymen lay heap'd; Yet still he strove;-I wonder'd at bis valour! There was not one who on that fatal day Fought bravelier.»
« Fatal was that day to France,» Exclaim'd the Bastard; « there Alençon fell, Valiant in vain; there D'Albert, whose mad pride Brought the whole ruin on. There fell Brabant, Vaudemont, and Marle, and Bar, and Faquenberg, Our noblest warriors; the determind foe Fought for revenge, not hoping victory, Desperately brave; ranks fell on ranks before them; The prisoners of that shameful day out-summ'd Their conquerors !» 30
« Yet believe not, » Bertram cried,
But when the field
Childless and old to think upon the past,
The old man
The Maid replied,
« So by Heaven preserved,
« Ah me! when war the masters of mankind,
What is man,
In vain with fearful hearts along the Seine
That I might lose remembrance!
And feel no fleshy pang? Why did the All-Good The white sail rose upon our aching sight;
Create these warrior scourges of mankind, For guarded was the Scine, and that stern foe
These who delight in slaugliter? I did think Had made a league with Famine.27 llow
heart There was not on this earth a heart so hard Sunk in me when at night I carried home
Could bear a famish'd woman cry for bread, The scanly pillance of 10-morrow's meal!
And know no pily. As the outcast train You know noi, strangers! what it is to see
Drew near, relentless Henry bade his troops
Force back the miserable multitude 35
They drove them to the walls,-il was the depth Expecting aid; nor longer force to force,
Of winter,- we had no relief to grant. Valour to valour in ihe fight opposed,
The aged ones groan'd to our foe in vain,
The mother pleaded for her dying child,
The mission'd Maid Into our wounds, Ambition's ear, best pleased Starts from her scat-« The old and the infirm, With the war's clamour and the groan of Deatlı, The mother and her babes! --and yet no lightning Was deaf to prayer. Day after day fled on;
Blasted this man!» We heard no voice of comfort. From the walls
Ay, Lady,» Bertram cricd; Could we behold the savage Irish Kernes 29
« And when we sent the herald to implore Ruffians half-clothed, liaif-human, half-baptized, 30
- 36 on the helpless, his sieru face Come with their spoil, mingling their hideous shouts Assumed a steroer smile of callous scorn, With moan of weary tlocks, and piteous low
And he replied in mockery. On the wall Of kine sore-laden, in the mirthful camp
I stood and mark'd the miserable outcasts, Scattering abundance; while the loathliest food
And every moment thought that Henry's hear!, We prized above all price; while in our streets llard as it was, would melt. All night I stood, The dying groan of hunger, and the scream
Their deep groans came upon the midnight gale, Of famishing infants echocd, -- and we heard,
Fainter they grew, for the cold wintry wind With the strange selfishness of misery,
Blew bleak; fainter they grew, and at the last We heard and hceded not,
All was still, save that ever and anon
The shriek of freozying anguishı.37
From that hour And pale and shrunken cheeks, and hollow eyes ; On all the busy turmoil of the world Yet still wc struggled nobly! Blanchard still
| gazed with siranje indifference; bearing want Spake of the savage fury of the foe,
With the sick patience of a mind worn out. Of Hartleur's wretched race cast on the world 31 Nor when the trailor yielded up our town 38 flouseless and destitute, while that fierce King Ought heeded I as through our ruind streets, . Knelt at the altar,32 and with impious prayer
Through putrid bieaps of famislid carcasses, Gave God the glory, even while the blood
Pass'd the long pomp of triumph. One keen pang That lie had shed was reeking up to Heaven.
I felt, when by that bloody king's command lle bade us think what merey they had found The gallant Blanchard died.39 Calmly be died ; Who yielded on the plain of Agincourt,
And as he bow'd beneath the axe, thank'd God And what the gallant sons of Caen, by him
That he had done bis duty. la cold blood murder d.33 Then bis scanty food
I survive, Sharing with the most wretched, he would bid us A solitary, friendless, wretched one, Dear with our miseries bravely.
knowing no joy save in the faith I fcel Thus distressid,
That I shall soon be gather'd to my sires, Lest all should perisha thus, our chiefs decreed
And soon repose, there where the wicked cease 4. Women and children, the infirm and old,
From troubling, and the weary are at rest.»
« And happy they who in that lioly faith
A little while And the deep sob of anguish interrupted
Though shelterless they feel the wintry wind, The prayer of parting, even the pious Priest
Tbc wind shall whistle o'er their turf-grown grave, As he implored his God to strengthen us,
And all be peace below. But woe to those, And told us we should meet again in Heaven,
Woe to the Mighty Ones who send abroad He groap'd and cursed in bitterness of heart 34
Their train'd assassins, and who give lo Fury That merciless man. The wretched crowd pass'd on: The flaming firebrand; these indeed shall live My wife--my children-through the gates they passid, The heroes of the wandering midstrel's song; Then the gates closed-Would I were in my grave, But they have their reward; the innocent blood
Steams up to Heaven against them. God shall licar With strangest and most unexpected aid
Sent by high leaven. I seek the Court, and thence « I saw him,» Bertram cried, To that beleaguer'd town shall lead such force, « Henry of Agincourt, this conqueror King,
That the proud English in their fields of blood Go to his grave. The long procession past
Shall perish.» Slowly from town to town, and when I heard
«I too,» Tanneguy replied, The deep-toned dirge, aud saw the banners wave « In the field of battle once again perchance A pompous shade,4, and the high torches glare May serve my royal Master ; in his cause lu the mid-day sun a dim and gloomy light, á a
My youth adventured much, nor can my age I thought what he had been on earth who now
Find better close than in the clang of arms
46 I was not such as he'»
Thou art for the Court; Son of the Chief I loved !
Court favour, ventures like the boy who leans
! To reach the o'erhanging fruit. 47 Thou seest me bere BOOK III.
A banish'd man, Dunois ! 48 so to appease
With midnight murder leagues, and down the Loire Farr dawnd thic morning, and the carly sun
Rolls the black carcase of his strangled foe. Pour'd on the latticed cot a cheerful gleam,
Now confident of strength, at the King's feet And up the travellers rose, and on their way
lle stabs the King's best friends, and then demands, Jlastened, their dangerous way, 43 througla fertile tracks 'As with a conqueror's imperious tone, The waste of war. They pass'd thic Auxerrois; The post of honour. Son of that loved Chief The autumnal rains had beaten to the earth 44
Whose death my arm avenged, 50 may
thy days The unreap'd harvest, from the village church
Be happy! serve thy country in the field, No even-song bell was heard, the shepherd's dog
And in the hour of
peace amid thy friends Prey'd on the scatter'd flock, for there was now
Dwell thou without ambition.» No haod to feed him, and upon the hearth
So he spake.
But when the Bastard told the wonderous tale,
Vouchsafed to France, the old man's eyes flash'd fire, Who linger'd in the place where he was born,
And rising from the bank, the stately steed For that alone was left him now to love.
That grazed beside he mounts. « Farewell, Dunois, They pass'd the Yonne, they pass'd the rapid Loire, Thou too the Delegate of Heaven, farewell! Still urging on their way with cautious speed,
I go to raise the standard ! we shall meet Shunning Auxerre, and i'ar's eipbattled wall,
At Orleans.» O'er the plain he spurr'd his steed. And Romorantin's towers.
So journcying ou, They journey on their way till Chinon's towers Fast by a spring, which welling at his feet
Rose to the distant view; imperial seat With many a winding crept along the mead,
Of Charles, for Paris with her servile sons, A Knight they saw, who there at his repast
A headstrong, mutable, ferocious race, Let the west wind play round his upgirt brow.
Bowd to the invader's yoke, since that sad hour 51 Approaching near, the Bastard recognized
When Faction o'er her streets with giant stride The gallant friend of Orleans, the brave chief
Strode terrible, and Murder and Revenge, Du Chastel; and, the mutual greeting passid,
As by the midnight torches' lurid light They on the streamlet's mossy bank reclined
They mark'd their mangled victims writhe convulsed, Beside him, and his frugal fare partook,
Laugh'd at the deep death groán. 1-fated scene! And drank the running waters.
Through many a dark age drench'd with innocent blood,
« Art thou bound And one day doom'd to know the damping guilt For the Court, Dunois ?» exclaim'd the aged knighi; Of Brissor murder'd, and the heroic wife I deem d thee far away, coop'd in the walls
Of Roland! Martyrd patriots, spirits pure, Of Orleans; a hard sicge her valiant sons
Wepe by the good ye fell! Yet still survives, Right loyally endure !»
Sown by your toil and by your blood manured,
The imperishable seed; and still its roots
Shall pitch their tents in peace.
In Paris now
The invader triumph'd. On an infant's head
Their cradled mighty one!
« Beloved of Ileaven,» I sought to raisc ucw powers, and now returnd So spake the Son of Orleans as they pass'd,