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For while she hoped and trusted through her means Charh's should be reëstablish'd in his realm, She felt rebuked before her. Through the land Meantime the King's convoking voice went forth, And from their palaces and monasteries The theologians came, men who had grown In midnight studies gray; Prelates, and Priests, And Doctors: teachers grave, and with great names, Seraphic, Subtile, or Irrefragable, By their admiring scholars dignified.

They met convened at Chinon, to the place Of judgment, in St. Katharine's fane assign'd. The floor with many a monumental stone Was spread, and brass-ensculptured effigies Of holy abbots honor'd in their day, Now to the grave gone down. The branching arms Of many a ponderous pillar met aloft, Wreath'd on the roof emboss'd. Through storied panes Of high arch'd windows came the tinctured light; Pure water in a font beneath reflects The many-color'd rays; around that font The fathers stand, and there with rites ordain'd And signs symbolic strew the hallowing salt, Wherewith the limpid water, consecrate, So taught the Church, became a spell approved Against the fiends of Satan's fallen crew; A licit spell of mightier potency Than e'er the hell-hags taught in Thessaly; Or they who sitting on the rifled grave, By the blue tomb-fire's lurid light dim seen, Share with the Gouls their banquet. This perform'd, The Maid is summon'd. Round the sacred font, Mark'd with the mystic tonsure and enrobed In sacred vests, a venerable train, They stand. The delegated Maid obeys Their summons. As she came, a blush suffused Her pallid cheek, such as might well beseem One mindful still of maiden modesty, Though to her mission true. Before the train In reverent silence waiting their sage will, With half-averted eye she stood composed. So have I seen a single snow-drop rise Amid the russet leaves that hide the earth In early spring, so seen it gently bend In modest loveliness alone amid The waste of winter.

By the Maiden's side The Son of Orleans stood, prepared to vouch That when on Charles the Maiden's eye had fix'd, As led by pow-er miraculous, no fraud, Nor juggling artifice of secret sign Dissembled inspiration. As he stood Steadily viewing the mysterious rites, Thus to the attentive Maid t)ie President Severely spake.                   "If any fiend of Hell Lurk in thy bosom, so to prompt the vaunt Of inspiration, and to mock the power Of God and holy Church, thus by the virtue Of water hallowed in the name of God Adjure I that foul spirit to depart From his deluded prey."                             Slowly he spake, And sprinkled water on the virgin's face. Indignant at the unworthy charge, the Maid Felt her cheek flush; but soon, the transient glow Fading, she answer'd meek.                              "Most holy Sires, Ye reverend Fathers of the Christian church, Most catholic! I stand before you here A poor weak woman; of the grace vouchsafed, How far unworthy, conscious; yet though mean, Innocent of fraud, and call'd by Heaven to be Its minister of aid. Strange voices heard, The dark and shadowing visions of the night, And feelings which I may not dare to doubt, These portents make me certain of the God Within me; He who to these eyes reveal'd My royal Master, mingled with the crowd And never seen till then. Such evidence Given to my mission thus, and thus confirm'd By public attestation, more to say, Methinks, would little boot, — and less become A silly Maid."                "Thou speakest," said the Priest, "Of dark and shadowing visions of the night. Canst thou remember, Maid, what vision first Seem'd more than fancy's shaping? From such tale, Minutely told with accurate circumstance, Some judgment might be form'd."                              The Maid replied "Amid the mountain valleys I had driven My father's flock. The eve was drawing on, When by a sudden storm surprised, I sought A chapel's neighboring shelter; ruin'd now, But I remember when its vesper bell Was heard among the hills, a pleasant sound, That made me pause upon my homeward road, Awakening in me comfortable thoughts Of holiness. The unsparing soldiery Had sack'd the hamlet near, and none was left Duly at sacred seasons to attend St. Agnes' chapel. In the desolate pile I drove my flock, with no irreverent thoughts, Nor mindless that the place on which I trod Was holy ground. It was a fearful night! Devoutly to the virgin Saint I pray'd, Then heap'd the wither'd leaves which autumn winds Had drifted in, and laid me down upon them, And sure I think I slept. But so it was That, in the dead of night, Saint Agnes stood Before mine eyes, such and so beautiful As when, amid the house of wickedness, The Power whom with such fervent love she served Veil'd her with glory. And I saw her point To the moss-grown altar, and the crucifix Half hid by weeds and grass; — and then I thought I could have wither'd armies with a look, For from the present Saint such divine power I felt infused — 'Twas but a dream perhaps. And yet methought that when a louder peal Burst o'er the roof, and all was left again Utterly dark, the bodily sense was clear