See this fair country ravaged by the foe,
My strong holds taken, and my bravest friends
Fallen in the field, or captives far away.
Dead is the Douglas; cold thy gallant heart,
Illustrious Buchan! ye from Scotland's hills,
Not mindless of your old ally distress'd,
Came to his succor; in this cause ye fought;
For him ye perish'd. Rash, impetuous Narbonne!
Thy mangled corse waves to the winds of Heaven.[1]
Cold, Graville, is thy sinewy arm in death;
Fallen is Ventadaur; silent in the grave
Rambouillet sleeps. Brectagne's unfaithful chief
Leagues with my foes; and Richemont,[2] or in arms
Defies my weak control, or from my side,
A friend more dreaded than the enemy,
Scares my best servants with the assassin's sword.
Soon must beleaguer'd Orleans fall. — But now
A truce to these sad thoughts! We arc not yet
So utterly despoil'd but we can spread
The friendly board, and giving thee, Dunois,
Such welcome as befits thy father's son,
Win from our public cares a day for joy."
Dunois replied, "So may thy future years
Pass from misfortune free, as all these ills
Shall vanish like a vision of the night!
I como to thee the joyful messenger
Of aid from Heaven; for Heaven hath delegated
A humble Maiden to deliver France.
That holy Maiden asks an audience now;
And when she promises miraculous things,
I feel it is not possible to hear
And disbelieve."
Astonish'd by his speech
Stood Charles. "At one of meaner estimation
I should have smiled, Dunois," the King replied;
" But thy known worth, and the tried loyalty
Of thy father's house, compel me even to this
To lend a serious ear. A woman sent
To rescue us, when all our strength hath fail'd!
A humble Maiden to deliver France!
One whom it were not possible to hear,
And disbelieve! — Dunois, ill now beseems
Aught wild and hazardous. And yet our state
Being what it is, by miracle alone
Deliverance can be hoped for. Is my person
Known to this woman?"
"That it cannot be,
Unless it be by miracle made known,"
Dunois replied; "for she hath never left
Her native hamlet in Lorraine till now."
"Here then," rejoin'd the King, "we have a test
Easy, and safe withal. Abide thou here;
And hither by a speedy messenger
Summon the Prophetess. Upon the throne
Let some one take his seat and personate
My presence, while I mingle in the train.
If she indeed be by the Spirit moved,
That Spirit, certes, will direct her eyes
To the true Prince whom she is sent to serve:
But if she prove, as likeliest we must deem.
One by her own imaginations crazed,
Thus failing and convinced, she may return
Unblamed to her obscurity, and we
Be spared the shame of farther loss incurr'd
By credulous faith. Well might the English scoff,[3]
If on a frantic woman we should rest
Our last reliance." Thus the King resolved,
And with a faith half-faltering at the proof,
Dunois despatch'd a messenger, to seek
Beside the banks of Vienne, the mission'd Maid.
Soon is the court convened: the jewell'd crown
Shines on a courtier's head. Amid the train
The Monarch undistinguish'd takes his place,
Expectant of the event. The Virgin comes,
And as the Bastard led her to the throne,
Quick glancing o'er the mimic Majesty,
With gesture and with look like one inspired,
She fix'd her eye on Charles:[4] "Thou art the King!"
Then in a tone that thrill'd all hearts, pursued;
"I come the appointed Minister of Heaven,
To wield a sword before whose fated edge,
Far, far from Orleans shall the English wolves
Speed their disastrous flight. Monarch of France!
Send thou the tidings over all the realm,
Great tidings of deliverance and of joy;
The Maid is come, the mission'd Maid, whose hand
Shall in the consecrated walls of Rheims
Crown thee, anointed King."[5]
In wonder mute
The courtiers heard. Astonish'd Charles exclaim'd,
" This is indeed the agency of Heaven !
Hard, Maiden, were I of belief," he said,
"Did I not now, with full and confirm'd faith,
Receive thee as a Prophetess raised up
For our deliverance. Therefore, not in doubt
Of Providence or thee do I delay
At once to marshal our brave countrymen
Beneath thy banner; but to satisfy
Those who at distance from this most clear proof
Might hear and disbelieve, or yield at best
A cold assent. Those fully to confirm,
And more to make thy calling manifest,
Forthwith with all due speed I will convene
The Doctors of Theology,[6] wise men,
And learned in the mysteries of Heaven.
By them thy mission studied and approved,
As needs it must, their sanction to all minds
Will bring conviction, and the sure belief
Lead on thy favor'd troops to mightiest deeds,
Surpassing human possibility."
Well pleas'd the Maiden heard. Her the King leads
From the disbanding throng, meantime to dwell
With Mary. Watchful for her Lord's return
She sat with Agnes; Agnes proud of heart,
Majestically fair, whose large full eye
Or flashing anger, or with scornful scowl
Too oft deform'd her beauty. Yet with her
The lawless idol of the Monarch's heart,
The Queen, obedient to her husband's will,
Dwelt meekly in accord. With them the Maid
Was left to sojourn; by the gentle Queen
With cordial affability received;
By Agnes courteously, whose outward show
Of graciousness concealed an inward awe,
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22
JOAN OF ARC.
BOOK III.
