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On one foredoom'd to misery; for so doom'd Is that deluded one, who, of the mass Unheeding, and the Church's saving power, Deems Nature sinless. Therefore, mark me well! Brethren, I would propose this woman try The holy ordeal. Let her, bound and search'd, Lest haply in her clothes should be conceal'd Some holy relic so profaned, be cast In some deep pond; there if she float, no doubt The fiend upholds; but if at once she sink, It is a sign that Providence displays Her free from witchcraft. This done, let her walk Blindfold and bare o'er ploughshares heated red, And o'er these past, her naked arm immerse In scalding water. If from these she come Unhurt, to holy father of the church, Most blessed Pope, we then refer the cause For judgment: and this Chief, the Son of Orleans, Who comes to vouch the royal person known By her miraculous power, shall pass with her The sacred trial."

"Grace of God!" exclaim'd The astonish'd Bastard; "plunge me in the pool, O'er red-hot ploughshares make me skip to please Your dotard fancies! Fathers of the church, Where is your gravity? what! elder-like Would ye this fairer than Susannah eye? Ye call for ordeals; and I too demand The noblest ordeal, on the English host By victory to approve her mission sent From favoring Heaven. To the Pope refer For judgment! Know ye not that France even now Stands tottering on destruction!" Starting then With a wild look, the mission'd Maid exclaim'd, "The sword of God is here! the grave shall speak To manifest me!" Even as she spake, A pale blue flame rose from the trophied tomb Beside her; and within that house of death A sound of arms was heard, as if below A warrior, buried in his armor, stirr'd.

"Hear ye!" the Damsel cried; " these are the arms Which shall flash terror o'er the hostile host. These, in the presence of our Lord the King, And of the assembled people, I will take Here from the sepulchre, where many an age, They, incorruptible, have lain conceal'd, For me reserved, the Delegate of Heaven."

Recovering from amaze, the Priest replied: "Thou art indeed the Delegate of Heaven! What thou hast said surely thou shall perform. We ratify thy mission. Go in peace."

The feast was spread, the sparkling bowl went round, And in the assembled court the minstrel harp'd A song of other days. Sudden they heard The horn's loud blast. "This is no time for cares; Feast ye the messenger without!" cried Charles, "Enough hath of the wearying day been given To the public weal." Obedient to the King The guard invites the way-worn messenger. "Nay, I will see the monarch," he replied, "And he must hear my tidings; duty-urged, I have for many a long league hasten'd on, Not thus to be repell'd." Then with strong arm Removing him who barr'd his onward way, The hall he enter'd.                     "King of France! I come From Orleans, speedy and effectual aid Demanding for her gallant garrison, Faithful to thee, though thinn'd in many a fight, And now sore pressed by want. Rouse thou thyself, And with the spirit that becomes a King Responsive to his people's loyalty, Bring succor to the brave who in thy cause Abide the extremity of war." He said, And from the hall departing, in amaze At his audacious bearing left the court. The King exclaim'd, "But little need to send Quick succor to this gallant garrison, If to the English half so firm a front They bear in battle!" "In the field, my liege," Dunois replied, "yon Knight hath serv'd thee well. Him have I seen the foremost of the fight, Wielding so manfully his battle-axe, That wheresoe'er he turn'd, the affrighted foe Let fall their palsied arms with powerless stroke, Desperate of safety. I do marvel much That he is here: Orleans must be hard press'd To send the bravest of her garrison On such commission." Swift the Maid exclaim'd, "I tell thee, Chief, that there the English wolves Shall never raise their yells of victory! The will of God defends those fated walls, And resting in full faith on that high will, I mock their efforts. But the night draws on; Retire we to repose. To-morrow's sun, Breaking the darkness of the sepulchre, Shall on that armor gleam, through many an age There for this great emergency reserved." She said, and rising from the board, retired. Meantime the herald's brazen voice proclaim'd Coming solemnity, and far and wide Spread the glad tidings. Then all labor ceased; The ploughman from the unfinish'd furrow hastes; The armorer's anvil beats no more the din Of future slaughter. Through the thronging streets The buzz of asking wonder hums along.

On to St. Katharine's sacred fane they go; The holy fathers with the imaged cross Leading the long procession. Next, as one Suppliant for mercy to the King of kings, And grateful for the benefits of Heaven,