Strict beyond measure, and were well content,
If I should soften down my rigid nature
Even to inglorious ease, to honour me.
But pure of heart and high in self-esteem 400
I must be honour’d by myself: all else,
The breath of Fame, is as the unsteady wind Worthless.’
“So saying from his belt he took
The encumbering sword. I held it, listening to him,
And wistless what I did, half from the sheath 405
Drew forth its glittering blade. I gazed upon it,
And shuddering, as I touch’d its edge, exclaim’d,
How horrible it is with the keen sword
To gore the finely-fibred human frame! 409
I could not strike a lamb.
“He answer’d me
‘Maiden, thou sayest well. I could not strike
A lamb!..But when the merciless invader
Spares not grey age, and mocks the infant’s shriek
As it doth writhe upon his cursed lance,
And forces to his foul embrace the wife 415
Even where her slaughter’d husband bleeds to death.
Almighty God! I should not be a man
If I did let one weak and pitiful feeling
Make mine arm impotent to cleave him down. 419
Think well of this, young man!’ he cried, and took
The hand of Theodore; ‘think well of this;
As you are human, as you hope to live
In peace, amid the dearest joys of home,
Think well of this! You have a tender mother;
As you do wish that she may die in peace, 425
As you would even to madness agonize
To hear this maiden call on you in vain
For help, and see her dragg’d, and hear her scream
In the blood-reeking soldier’s lustful grasp, 429
Think that there are such horrors! that even now,
Some city flames, and haply, as in Roan,
Some famish’d babe on his dead mother’s breast
Yet hangs and pulls for food!.. Woe be to those
By whom the evil comes! And woe to him,..
For little less his guilt,..who dwells in peace, 435
When every arm is needed for the strife!’
“When we had all betaken us to rest,
Sleepless I lay, and in my mind revolved
The high-soul’d warrior’s speech. Then Madelon
Rose in remembrance; over her the grave 440
Had closed; her sorrows were not register’d
In the rolls of fame; but when the tears run down
The widow’s cheek, shall not her cry be heard
In Heaven against the oppressor? will not God
In sunder smite the unmerciful, and break 445
The sceptre of the wicked?.. Thoughts like these
Possess’d my soul, till at the break of day
I slept; nor did my heated brain repose
Even then; for visions, sent, as I believe, 449
From the Most-High, arose. A high-tower’d town
Hemm’d in and girt with enemies, I saw,
Where Famine on a heap of carcasses,
Half envious of the unutterable feast,
Mark’d the gorged raven clog his beak with gore.
I turn’d me then to the besieger’s camp, 455
And there was revelry: a loud lewd laugh
Burst on mine ear, and I beheld the chiefs
Sit at their feast, and plan the work of death.
My soul grew sick within me; I look’d up, 459
Reproaching Heaven,.. lo! from the clouds an arm
As of the avenging Angel was put forth,
And from his hand a sword, like lightning, fell.
“From that night I could feel my burthen’d soul
Heaving beneath incumbent Deity.
I sate in silence, musing on the days 465
To come, unheeding and unseeing all
Around me, in that dreaminess of thought
When every bodily sense is as it slept,
And the mind alone is wakeful. I have heard 469
Strange voices in the evening wind; strange forms
Dimly discover’d throng’d the twilight air.
The neighbours wonder’d at the sudden change,
They call’d me crazed; and my dear Uncle too,
Would sit and gaze upon me wistfully,
A heaviness upon his aged brow, 475
And in his eye such sorrow, that my heart
Sometimes misgave me. I had told him all
The mighty future labouring in my breast,
But that the hour, methought, not yet was come.
“At length I heard of Orleans, by the foe 480
Wall’d in from human help: thither all thoughts
All hopes were turn’d; that bulwark beaten down,
All were the invaders. Then my troubled soul
Grew more disturb’d, and shunning every eye,
I loved to wander where the woodland shade 485
Was deepest, there on mightiest deeds to brood
Of shadowy vastness, such as made my heart
Throb loud: anon I paused, and in a state
Of half expectance, listen’d to the wind.
“There is a fountain in the forest call’d 490
The Fountain of the Fairies: when a child
With a delightful wonder I have heard
Tales of the Elfin tribe who on its banks
Hold midnight revelry. An ancient oak,
The goodliest of the forest, grows beside; 495
Alone it stands, upon a green grass plat,
By the woods bounded like some little isle.
It ever hath been deem’d their favourite tree,
They love to lie and rock upon its leaves, 499
And bask in moonshine. Here the Woodman leads
His boy, and shewing him the green-sward mark’d
With darker circlets, says their midnight dance
Hath traced the rings, and bids him spare the tree.
Fancy had cast a spell upon the place
Which made it holy; and the villagers 505
Would say that never evil thing approach’d
Unpunish’d there. The strange and fearful pleasure
Which fill’d me by that solitary spring,
Ceased not in riper years; and now it woke
Deeper delight, and more mysterious awe. 510
“A blessed spot! Oh how my soul enjoy’d
Its holy quietness, with what delight
Escaping from mankind I hasten’d there
To solitude and freedom! Thitherward
On a spring eve I had betaken me, 515
And there I sat, and mark’d the deep red clouds
Gather before the wind.. the rising wind,
Whose sudden gusts, each wilder than the last,
Appear’d to rock my senses. Soon the night
Darken’d around, and the large rain-drops fell 520
Heavy; anon tempestuously the gale
Swept o’er the wood. Methought the thunder-shower
Fell with refreshing coolness on my head,
And the hoarse dash of waters, and the rush
Of winds that mingled with the forest roar, 525
Made a wild music. On a rock I sat,
The glory of the tempest fill’d my soul;
And when the thunders peal’d, and the long flash
Hung durable in heaven, and on my sight 529
Spread the grey forest, memory, thought, were gone.
All sense of self annihilate, I seem’d
Diffused into the scene.
“At length a light
Approach’d the spring; I saw my Uncle Claude;
His grey locks dripping with the midnight storm,
He came, and caught me in his arms, and cried
‘My God! my child is safe!’
> “I felt his words
Pierce in my heart; my soul was overcharged;
I fell upon his neck and told him all; 538
GOD was within me, as I felt, I spake,
And he believed.
“Aye, Chieftain! and the world
Shall soon believe my mission; for the LORD
Will raise up indignation and pour on’t
His wrath, and they shall perish who oppress.”
JOAN OF ARC. THE SECOND BOOK.
AND now beneath the horizon westering slow
Had sunk the orb of day: o’er all the vale
A purple softness spread, save where some tree
Its lengthen’d shadow stretch’d, or winding stream
Mirror’d the light of Heaven, still traced distinct 5
When twilight dimly shrouded all beside.
A grateful coolness freshen’d the calm air, -
And the hoarse grasshoppers their evening song
Sung shrill and ceaseless, as the dews of night
Descended. On their way the travellers wend, 10
Cheering the road with converse; till at length
They mark a cottage lamp whose steady light
Shone through the lattice; thitherward they turn.
There came an old man forth; his thin grey locks
Moved to the breeze and on his wither’d face
The characters of age were written deep. 16
Them, louting low with rustic courtesy,
He welcomed in; on the white-ember’d hearth
Heapt up fresh fuel, then with friendly care
Spread out his homely board, and fill’d the bowl 20
With the red produce of the vine that arch’d
His evening seat; they of the plain repast
Partook, and quaff’d the pure and pleasant draught.
“Strangers, your fare is homely,” said their Host,
“But such it is as we poor countrymen 25
Earn with our toil: in faith ye are welcome to it!
I too have borne a lance in younger days;
And would that I were young again to meet
These haughty English in the field of fight;
Such as I was when on the fatal plain 30
Of Agincourt I met them.
“Wert thou then
A sharer in that dreadful day’s defeat?”
Exclaim’d the Bastard: “Didst thou know the Lord
Of Orleans?”
“ Know him?” cried the veteran,
“I saw him ere the bloody fight began 35
Riding from rank to rank, his beaver up,
The long lance quivering in his mighty grasp.
His eye was wrathful to an enemy,
But for his countrymen it had a smile 39
Would win all hearts. Looking at thee, Sir Knight,
Methinks I see him now; such was his eye,
Gentle in peace, and such his manly brow.”
“No tongue but speaketh honour of that name!”
Exclaim’d Dunois. “Strangers and countrymen
Alike revered the good and gallant Chief. 45
His vassals like a father loved their Lord;
His gates stood open to the traveller;
The pilgrim when he saw his towers rejoiced,
For he had heard in other lands the fame
Of Orleans... And he lives a prisoner still! 50
Losing all hope because my arm so long
Hath fail’d to win his liberty!”
He turn’d
His head away, hiding the burning shame
Which flush’d his face. “But he shall live, Dunois,”
The mission’d Maid replied; “but he shall live 55
To hear good tidings; hear of liberty,
Of his own liberty, by his brother’s arm
Achieved in well-won battle. He shall live
Happy, the memory of his prison’d years
Shall heighten all his joys, and his grey hairs 60
Go to the grave in peace.”
“I would fain live
To see that day,” replied their aged host:
“How would my heart leap to behold again
The gallant generous chieftain! I fought by him,
When all our hopes of victory were lost, 65
And down his batter’d arms the blood stream’d fast
From many a wound. Like wolves they hemm’d us in,
Fierce in unhoped-for conquest: all around
Our dead and dying countrymen lay heap’d;
Yet still he strove;.. I wonder’d at his valour! 70
There was not one who on that fatal day
Fought bravelier.”
“Fatal was that day to France,”
Exclaim’d the Bastard; “there Alençon fell,
Valiant in vain; there D’Albert, whose mad pride
Brought the whole ruin on. There fell Brabant,
Vaudemont, and Marie, and Bar, and Faquenberg,
Our noblest warriors; the determin’d foe 77
Fought for revenge, not hoping victory,
Desperately brave; ranks fell on ranks before them;
The prisoners of that shameful day out-summ’d 80
Their conquerors!”
“Yet believe not,” Bertram cried,
“That cowardice disgraced thy countrymen!
They by their leaders arrogance led on
With heedless fury, found all numbers vain,
All effort fruitless there; and hadst thou seen, 85
Skilful as brave, how Henry’s ready eye
Lost not a thicket, not a hillock’s aid;
From his hersed bowmen how the arrows flew 88
Thick as the snow-flakes and with lightning force;
Thou wouldst have known such soldiers, such a chief,
Could never be subdued.
“But when the field
Was won, and they who had escaped the fight
Had yielded up their arms, it was foul work
To turn on the defenceless prisoners
The cruel sword of conquest. Girt around 95
I to their mercy had surrender’d me,
When lo! I heard the dreadful cry of death.
Not as amid the fray, when man met man
And in fair combat gave the mortal blow;
Here the poor captives, weaponless and bound, 100
Saw their stem victors draw again the sword,
And groan’d and strove in vain to free their hands,
And bade them think upon their plighted faith,
And pray’d for mercy in the name of God,
In vain: the King had bade them massacre, 105
And in their helpless prisoners’ naked breasts
They drove the weapon. Then I look’d for death,
And at that moment death was terrible,..
For the heat of fight was over; of my home
I thought, and of my wife and little ones 110
In bitterness of heart. But the brave man,
To whom the chance of war had made me thrall,
Had pity, loosed my hands, and bade me fly.
It was the will of Heaven that I should live
Childless and old to think upon the past, 115
And wish that I had perish’d!”
The old man
Wept as he spake. “Ye may perhaps have heard
Of the hard siege that Roan so long endur’d.
I dwelt there, strangers; I had then a wife,
And I had children tenderly beloved, 120
Who I did hope should cheer me in old age
And close mine eyes. The tale of misery
May-hap were tedious, or I could relate
Much of that dreadful time.”
The Maid replied,
Wishing of that devoted town to hear. 125
Thus then the veteran:
“So by Heaven preserved,
From the disastrous plain of Agincourt
&nbs
p; I speeded homewards, and abode in peace.
Henry, as wise as brave, had back to England
Led his victorious army; well aware 130
That France was mighty, that her warlike sons,
Impatient of a foreigner’s command,
Might rise impetuous, and with multitudes
Tread down the invaders. Wisely he return’d,
For our proud barons in their private broils 135
Wasted the strength of France. I dwelt at home,
And with the little I possess’d content,
Lived happily. A pleasant sight it was
To see my children, as at eve I sat 139
Beneath the vine, come clustering round my knee,
That they might hear again the oft-told tale
Of the dangers I had past: their little eyes
Would with such anxious eagerness attend
The tale of life preserved, as made me feel
Life’s value. My poor children! a hard fate 145
Had they! But oft and bitterly I wish
That God had to his mercy taken me
In childhood, for it is a heavy lot
To linger out old age in loneliness!
Ah me! when war the masters of mankind, 150
Woe to the poor man! if he sow his field,
He shall not reap the harvest; if he see
His offspring rise around, his boding heart
Aches at the thought that they are multiplied 154
To the sword! Again from England the fierce foe
Came on our ravaged coasts. In battle bold,
Merciless in conquest, their victorious King
Swept like the desolating tempest round.
Dambieres submits; on Caen’s subjected wall
The flag of England waved. Roan still remain’d,
Embattled Roan, bulwark of Normandy; 161
Nor unresisted round her massy walls
Pitch’d they their camp. I need not tell, Sir Knight
How oft and boldly on the invading host
We burst with fierce assault impetuous forth, 165
For many were the warlike sons of Roan.
One gallant Citizen was famed o’er all
For daring hardihood pre-eminent,
Blanchard. He, gathering round his countrymen,
With his own courage kindling every breast, 170
Had made them vow before Almighty God
Never to yield them to the usurping foe.
Befere the God of Hosts we made the vow;
And we had baffled the besieging power,
Had not the patient enemy drawn round 175
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 4
