Page:Completepoetical1848sout.djvu/60



Or mingled with the soldier's busy dreams, Or with vague terrors fill'd his startled sense, Prompting a secret prayer. So on she past To where in loftier shade arose the tent Of Burgundy: light leaping from her seat She enter'd.            On the earth the chieftain slept, His mantle scarft around him; near him hung His helmet and his shield, and at his side Within hand-reach his sword. Profound he slept, Nor heard the coming courser's sounding hoof, Nor entering footstep. "Burgundy!" she cried, "What, Burgundy! awake!" He started up, And saw the gleam of arms, and to his sword Reach'd a quick hand. But what he now beheld Thrill'd him, for full upon her face the lamp Cast its deep glare, and in her solemn look Was an unearthly meaning. Pale she was; And in her eye a saintly lustre beam'd, And that most calm and holiest confidence That guilt knows never. "Burgundy, thou seest !" As she spake, a voice Exclaim'd, "Die, sorceress!" and a knight rush'd in, Whose name by her illustrated yet lives, Franquet of Arras. With uplifted arm Furious he came; her buckler broke the blow, And forth she flash'd her sword, and with a stroke Swift that no eye could ward it, and of strength No mail might blunt, smote on his neck, his neck Unfenced, for he in haste aroused had cast An armet on; resistless there she smote, And to the earth prone fell the headless trunk Of Franquet. Then on Burgundy she fix'd Her eye severe. "Go, chief, and thank thy God That he with lighter judgments visits thee Than fell on Sisera, or by Judith's hand He wrought upon the Assyrian! Thank thy God, That when his vengeance smote the invading sons Of England, equal though thou wert in guilt, Thee he has spar'd to work by penitence And better deeds atonement." Thus she spake, Then issued forth, and bounding on her steed Sped o'er the plain. Dark on the upland bank The hedge-row trees distinct and colorless Rose on the gray horizon, and the Loire Form'd in its winding way islands of light Amid the shadowy vale, when now she reach'd The walls of Orleans. From the eastern clouds The sun came forth, as to the assembled chiefs The Maiden pass'd. Her bending thitherwards The Bastard met. "Now perils threaten us," He said, "new toils await us; Burgundy, — "

"Fear not for Burgundy!" the Maid replied, "Him will the Lord direct. Our earliest scouts Shall tell his homeward march. What of the troops Of England?" "They," the Son of Orleans cried, "By darkness favor'd, fled; yet not by flight Shall these invaders now escape the arm Of retribution. Even now our troops, By battle unfatigued, unsatisfied With conquest, clamor to pursue the foe." The delegated Damsel thus replied: "So let them fly, Dunois! But other work Than that of battle, now must be perform'd. We move not in pursuit, till we have paid The rites of burial to our countrymen, And hymn'd our gratitude to that All-just Who gave the victory. Thou, meantime, despatch Tidings to Chinon: let the King set forth, That crowning him before assembled France, In Rheims delivered from the enemy, I may accomplish all." So said the Maid, Then to the gate moved on. The assembled troops Beheld her coming, and they smote their shields, And with one voice of greeting bless'd her name, And pray'd her to pursue the flying foe. She waved her hand, and silently they stood, Attentive while she spake; — "Fellows in arms! We must not speed to joyful victory, And leave our gallant comrades where they lie, For dogs, and wolves, and carrion-birds a prey; Ere we advance, let us discharge to them The duty that is due." So said the Maid; And as she spake, the thirst of battles dies In every breast, such awe and love pervade The listening troops. They o'er the corse-strewn plain Speed to their sad employment: some dig deep The house of death; some bear the lifeless load; Others the while search carefully around, If haply they may find surviving yet Some wounded wretches. As they labor thus, They mark far off the iron-blaze of arms; See distant standards waving on the air, And hear the clarion's clang. Then spake the Maid To Conrade, and she bade him haste to espy The coming army; or to meet their march With friendly greeting, or if foes they came With such array of battle as short space Allow'd: the warrior sped across the plain, And soon beheld the banner'd lilies wave.

Their chief was Richemont: he when as he heard What rites employed the Virgin, straightway bade His troops assist in burial; they, though grieved At late arrival, and the expected day Of conquest past, yet give their willing aid: They dig the general grave, and thither bear English or French, alike commingled now, And heap the mound of death. Amid the plain There was a little eminence, of old Raised o'er some honored chieftain's narrow house. His praise the song had ceased to celebrate, And many an unknown age had the long grass Waved o'er that nameless mound, though barren now Beneath the frequent tread of multitudes There elevate, the martial Maiden stood,