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The long procession, through the streets bestrewn With flowers and laurel boughs. The courtier throng Were there, and they in Orleans, who endured Tlie siege right bravely; Gaucour, and La Hire, The gallant Xaintrailles, Boussac, and Chabannes, Alençon, and the bravest of the brave, The Bastard Orleans, now in hope elate, Soon to release from hard captivity His dear-beloved brother; gallant men, And worthy of eternal memory, For they, in the most perilous times of France, Despair'd not of their country. By the king The delegated Damsel pass'd along Clad in her batter'd arms. She bore on high Her hallow'd banner to the sacred pile, And fix'd it on the altar, whilst her hand Pour'd on the monarch's head the mystic oil, Wafted of yore, by milk-white dove from heaven, (So legends say,) to Clovis when he stood At Rheims for baptism; dubious since that day, When Tolbiac plain reek'd with his warrior's blood, And fierce upon their flight the Ahnanni prest, And rear'd the shout of triumph: in that hour Clovis invoked aloud the Christian God And conquer'd: waked to wonder thus, the chief Became love's convert, and Clotilda led Her husband to the font. The mission'd Maid Then placed on Charles's brow the crown of France, And back retiring, gazed upon the king One moment, quickly scanning all the past, Till, in a tumult of wild wonderment, She wept aloud. The assembled multitude In awful stillness witness'd; then at once, As with a tempest-rushing noise of winds, Lifted their mingled clamors. Now the Maid Stood as prepared to speak, and waved her hand, And instant silence followed. "King of France!" She cried, "at Chinon, when my gifted eye Knew thee disguised, what inwardly the spirit Prompted. I promised, with the sword of God, To drive from Orleans far the English wolves, And crown thee in the rescued walls of Rheims. All is accomplish'd. I have here this day Fulfill'd my mission, and anointed thee King over this great nation. Of this charge, Or well perform'd or carelessly, that God Of Whom thou boldest thine authority Will take account; from Him all power derives. Thy duty is to fear the Lord, and rule, According to His word and to the laws, The people thus committed to thy charge: Theirs is to fear Him and to honor Thee, And with that fear and honor to obey In all things lawful; both being thus alike By duty bound, alike restricted both From wilful license. If thy heart be set To do His will and in His ways to walk, I know no limit to the happiness Thou may'st create. I do beseech thee, King!" The Maid exclaim'd, and fell upon the ground, And clasp'd his knees, "I do beseech thee, King! By all the thousands that depend on thee, For weal or woe, — consider what thou art, By Whom appointed! If thou dost oppress Thy people, if to aggrandize thyself      [them Thou tear'st them from their homes, and sendest To slaughter, prodigal of misery; If when the widow and the orphan groan In want and wretchedness, thou turnest thee To hear the music of the flatterer's tongue; If, when thou hear'st of thousands who have fallen, Thou say'st, 'I am a King! and fit it is That these should perish for me;' — if thy realm Should, through the counsels of thy government, Be fill'd with woe, and in thy streets be heard The voice of mourning and the feeble cry Of asking hunger; if in place of Law Iniquity prevail; if Avarice grind The poor; if discipline be utterly Relax'd, Vice charter'd, Wickedness let loose; Though in the general ruin all must share, Each answer for his own peculiar guilt, Yet at the Judgment-day, from those to whom The power was given, the Giver of all power Will call for righteous and severe account. Choose thou the better part, and rule the land In righteousness; in righteousness thy throne Shall then be stablish'd, not by foreign foes Shaken, nor by domestic enemies, But guarded then by loyalty and love, True hearts, Good Angels, and All-seeing Heaven. Thus spake the Maid of Orleans, solemnly Accomplishing her marvellous mission here.

{{c|{{sc|Note}} 1, p. 13, col. I. — The Bastard Orleans. "Lewes duke of Orleance murthered in Paris, by Jlion duke of Burgoyne, was owner of the castle of Coney, on the frontiers of Fraunce toward Artlioys, whereof lie made con- stable the lord of Canny, a man not so wise as his wifo was laire, and yet she was not so faire, but she was as well be- loved of the duke of Orloance, as of her husband. Betwenc the duke and hrr husband (I cannot tell who was Otther), she conceived a child, and brought furtlie a prety boye called Jhon, wliicho child bryinj; of the age of one yere, the duke deceased, and not long after the mother and the lord of Cawny bnded their lives. The next of kynne to the lord Cawny chalenged the inheritaunce, which was worth foure thousande crounes a yere, alledgyng that the boye was a bastard : and the kynred of the niother'a side, for to save her honesty, it plainly denied. In conclusion, this matter was in contencion before the presi- dentes of the parliament of Paris, and there hang in contro- versio till the child came to the age of eight years old. At whiclie tyme it was demanded of hym openly whose Sonne he was ; his frendes of his mother's side advertised hym to re- quire a day, to he advised of so great an answer, whiche ho asked, and to hym it was granted. In the mean season, his said frendes persuaded him to claiine his inheritance as sonno to the lorde of Cawny, wliiche was an honorable livyng, and an auncient patrimony, aflinning that if he saiil contrary, he not only slaundered his mother, shamed hymsclf, and stained his bloud, but also should have no livyng, nor any thing to lake to. The scholemaster Ihinkyng that his disciple had well learned his lesson, and would rehearse it according to his instruccion, brought hym before the judges at the daio assigned, and when the question was repeted to hym again, he boldly answered, " My harte geveth me, and my tonge