230
JOAN OF ARC.
Beneath whose weight one but of common strength 185
Had sunk. Untir'd the conflict he endur'd,
Wielding a battle-axe ponderous and keen,
That 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, 190
As at the Maid he aimed his javelin,
Forceful it fell, and shiver'd with the blow
The iron helm, and to his brain-pan drove
The fragments. At their comrades death amaz'd,
And for a moment fearful shrunk the foes. 195
That instant Conrade, with an active bound,
Sprung on the battlements. There firm he stood,
Guarding ascent. The warrior Maid of Arc,
And he the partner of that battle's fame,
Followed, and soon the exulting cry of France 200
Along the lists was heard, as waved aloft
The holy banner. Gladdisdale beheld,
And hasting from his well-defended post,
Sped to the fiercer conflict. To the Maid
Had sunk. Untir'd the conflict he endur'd,
Wielding a battle-axe ponderous and keen,
That 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, 190
As at the Maid he aimed his javelin,
Forceful it fell, and shiver'd with the blow
The iron helm, and to his brain-pan drove
The fragments. At their comrades death amaz'd,
And for a moment fearful shrunk the foes. 195
That instant Conrade, with an active bound,
Sprung on the battlements. There firm he stood,
Guarding ascent. The warrior Maid of Arc,
And he the partner of that battle's fame,
Followed, and soon the exulting cry of France 200
Along the lists was heard, as waved aloft
The holy banner. Gladdisdale beheld,
And hasting from his well-defended post,
Sped to the fiercer conflict. To the Maid
He
