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Time was not for long counsel. From the court, Obedient to Dunois, the French retire As if at the irruption of their foes Dishearten'd; they, with shouts and loud uproar, Haste to their fancied conquest: Joan, the while Placing a small but gallant garrison, Bade them secure the gates; then sallying forth, With such fierce onset charged them in the rear, That terror smote the English, and they wish'd Again that they might hide them in their walls Rashly abandoned, for now wheeling round Dunois attack'd their flank. All captainless, Ill-marshall'd, ill-directed, in vain rage They waste their furious efforts, falling fast Before the Maid's good falchion and the arm Of Conrade: loud was heard the mingled sound Of arms and men; the soil, that, trampled late By multitudes, sent up its stifling clouds Of dust, was miry now with human blood. On the fort's summit Talbot mark'd the fight, And calling for his arms impatiently, Eager to issue forth, was scarce withheld; For now, dishearten'd and discomfited, The troops took flight. Upon the bridge there stood A strong-built tower, commanding o'er the Loire. The traveller sometimes linger'd on his way, Marking the playful tenants of the stream, Seen in its shadow, stem the sea-ward tide; This had the invaders won in hard assault, Before the delegate of Heaven came forth And made them fear who never fear'd till then. Thither the English troops with hasty steps Retired, not utterly defeated yet, But mindful of defence: the garrison Them thus retreating saw, and open threw Their guarded gates, and on the Gallic host, Covering their vanquish'd fellows, pour'd their shafts. Check'd in pursuit they stop. Then Graville cried, "Ill, Maiden, hast thou done! those valiant troops Thy womanish pity has dismiss'd, with us Conjoin'd, might press upon the vanquish'd foe, Though aided thus, and plant the lilied flag Victorious on yon tower." "Dark-minded man!" The Maid of Orleans answer'd; "to act well Brings with itself an ample recompense. I have not rear'd the Oriflamme of death — Now God forbid! The banner of the Lord Is this, and come what will, me it behoves, Mindful of Him whose minister I am, To spare the fallen foe: that gracious God Sends me a messenger of mercy forth, Sends me to save this ravaged realm of France, To England friendly as to all the world, Only to those an enemy, whose lust Of sway makes them the enemies of man."

She said, and suddenly threw off her helm; Her bosom heaved, — her cheek grew red, — her eyes Beam'd with a wilder lustre. "Thou dost deem That I have illy spared so large a band, Disabling from pursuit our weaken'd troops; — God is with us!" she cried — "God is with us! Our Champion manifest!" Even as she spake, The tower, the bridge, and all its multitudes, Sunk with a mighty crash. Astonishment Seized on the French; an universal cry Of terror burst from them. Crush'd in the fall, Or by their armor hopelessly weigh'd down, Or while they plied their unencumber'd arms, Caught by some sinking wretch, who grasp'd them fast, Shrieking they sunk, while frequent fragments huge Fell in the foaming current. From the fort Talbot beheld, and gnash'd his teeth, and cursed The more than mortal Virgin; whilst the towers Of Orleans echoed to the loud uproar, And all who heard trembled, and cross'd their breasts. And as they hasten'd to the city walls, Told fearfully their beads. 'T'was now the hour When o'er the plain the fading rays of eve Their sober light effuse; when the lowing herd, Slow as they move to shelter, draw behind Their lengthening shadows; and toward his nest, As heavily he flaps the dewy air, The hoarse rook breathes his melancholy note. "Now then, Dunois, for Orleans!" cried the Maid "And give we to the flames these monuments Of sorrow and disgrace. The ascending flames Will to the dwellers of yon rescued town Rise with a joyful splendor, while the foe Behold and tremble." As she spake, they ran To burn the forts; they shower their wild fire there, And high amid the gloom the ascending flames Blaze up; then joyful of their finish'd toil The host retire. Hush'd is the field of fight As the calm'd ocean, when its gentle waves Heave slow and silent, wafting tranquilly The shatter'd fragments of some midnight wreck.

Far through the shadowy sky the ascending flames Stream'd their fierce torrents, by the gales of night Now curl'd, now flashing their long lightnings up That made the stars seem pale; less frequent now Through the red volumes briefer splendors shot, And blacker waves roll'd o'er the darken'd heaven. Dismay'd amid the forts which yet remain'd The invaders saw, and clamor'd for retreat, Deeming that aided by invisible powers The Maid went forth to conquer. Not a sound Moved on the air but fill'd them with vague dread Of unseen dangers; if a sudden blast Arose, through every fibre a deep fear Crept shivering, and to their expecting minds Silence itself was dreadful. One there was Who, learning wisdom in the hour of ill,