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Worn out and faint with that day's dangerous toil, My deep wounds bleeding, vainly with weak hand I check'd the powerless rein. Nor aught avail'd When heal'd at length, defeated and alone Again to enter Orleans. In Lorraine I sought to raise new powers, and now return'd With strangest and most unexpected aid. Sent by high Heaven, I seek the Court, and thence To that beleaguer'd town shall lead such force, That the proud English in their fields of blood Shall perish."                       "I too," Tanneguy reply'd, In the field of battle once again perchance May serve my royal Master; in his cause My youth adventur'd much, nor can my age Find better close than in the clang of arms To die for him whom I have lived to serve. Thou art for the Court. Son of the Chief I loved! Be wise by my experience. He who seeks Court-favor, ventures like a boy who leans Over the brink of some high precipice To reach the o'erhanging fruit. Thou seest me here A banish'd man, Dunois! so to appease Richemont, who, jealous of the royal ear, With midnight murder leagues, and down the Loire Sends the black carcass of his strangled foe. Now confident of strength, at the Kings feet He stabs the King's best friends, and then demands, As with a conqueror's imperious tone, The post of honor. Son of that good Duke Whose death my arm avenged, may all thy days Be happy; serve thy country in the field, But in the hour of peace amid thy friends Dwell thou without ambition."                                  So he spake. But when the Bastard told his wondrous tale. How interposing Heaven had its high aid Vouchsafed to France, the old man's eyes flash'd fire, And rising from the bank, his ready steed That grazed beside he mounted. "Farewell, friend, And thou, the Delegate of Heaven!" he cried. "I go to do my part, and we shall meet At Orleans." Saying thus, he spurr'd away. They journey on their way till Chinon's towers Rose on the distant view; the royal scat Of Charles, while Paris with her servile sons, A headstrong, mutable, ferocious race, Bow'd to the invader's yoke; City even then Above all Cities noted for dire deeds ! Yet doom'd to be the scene of blacker guilt, Opprobry more enduring, crimes that call'd For heavier vengeance, than in those dark days When the Burgundian faction fill'd thy streets With carnage. Twice hast thou since then been made A horror and a warning to all lands; When kingly power conspired with papal craft To plot and perpetrate that massacre, Which neither change of kalendar, nor lapse Of time, shall hide from memory, or efface; And when in more enlighten'd days, — so deem'd, So vaunted, — the astonish'd nations saw A people, to their own devices left, Therefore as by judicial frenzy stricken, Lawless and godless, fill the whole wide realm With terror, and with wickedness and woe, — A more astounding judgment than when Heaven Shower'd on the cities of the accursed plain Its fire and sulphur down. In Paris now The Invader triumph'd. On an infant's head Had Bedford placed the crown of Charlemagne, And factious nobles bow'd the subject knee. And own'd an English infant for their King, False to their own liege Lord. "Beloved of Heaven," Then said the Son of Orleans to the Maid, "Lo these the walls of Chinon, this the abode Of Charles our monarch. Here in revelry He of his armies vanquish'd, his fair towns Subdued, hears careless and prolongs the dance. And little marvel I that to the cares Of empire still he turns the unwilling ear. For loss on loss, defeat upon defeat, His strong holds taken, and his bravest Chiefs Or slain or captured, and the hopes of youth All blasted, have subdued the royal mind Undisciplined in Fortitude's stern school. So may thy voice arouse his sleeping virtue!"

The mission'd Maid replied, "Do thou, Dunois, Announce my mission to the royal ear. I on the river's winding bank the while Will roam, collecting for the interview My thoughts, though firm, yet troubled. Who essays Achievements of great import will perforce Feel the heart heave; and in my breast I own Such perturbation." On the banks of Vienne Devious the Damsel turn'd, while through the gate The Son of Orleans press'd with hasty step To seek the King. Him from the public view He found secluded with his blameless Queen, And his partaker of the unlawful bed, The lofty-minded Agnes. "Son of Orleans!" So as he enter'd cried the haughty fair, "Thou art well come to witness the disgrace, The weak, unmanly, base despondency Of this thy Sovereign Liege. He will retreat To distant Dauphiny and fly the war! Go then, unworthy of thy rank! retreat To distant Dauphiny, and fly the war, Recreant from battle! I will not partake A fugitive's fate; when thou hast lost thy crown Thou losest Agnes. — Do'st not blush, Dunois! To bleed in combat for a Prince like this, Fit only, like the Merovingian race On a May morning deck'd with flowers, to mount His gay-bedizen'd car, and ride abroad And make the multitude a holiday. Go, Charles! and hide thee in a woman's garb. And these long locks will not disgrace thee then!"

"Nay, Agnes!" Charles replied, "reproach me not! I have enough of sorrow. Look around,