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Pale grows the cheek, but swift through ev'ry vein The blood with force accelerated speeds, And dyes with crimson blush the pallid skin.
JOAN. Fled from the precincts of my heart the secret Which I had hoped e'en from myself to hide.
O traitor heart! why hast thou failed me thus?
BER. Wherefore hath anguish thus o'erspread each feature?
JOAN. Condemn me not. Would thou couldst read this breast!
Here no emotion dwells thou couldst reprove.
As angels view the charge to them consigned, As o'er their forms with outstretched wings they lean, Speechless with love, and only bent to serve The appointed object of their holy vigils, So I his form behold, such feeling share.
BER. Why should I censure thee, sweet friend, for that Which is but honour to himself, as thee, And marks the worth of both? Such love as thine--
JOAN. Oh no! I dare not, cannot call it love.
As well might the poor wren, that nestles there, Become enamoured of the mountain bird, As I fond thought of him might entertain.
BER. Nay, say not so: 'tis no offence to love.
Doth not the woodbine climb the loftiest tree, With fond endearment clasp its stately trunk, Smile midst its boughs, and shed her soft perfume In token of delight, and fear no frown, No censure for her daring?
JOAN. Soothing words Fall like the dew upon the sterile soil, Mocking the want it never can supply-- I am what I must be--he e'er the same.
BER. Thou art unjust to him as to thyself, Bride of Du Nois.
JOAN. Du Nois! Thou art deceived.
Not he,--alas! I have betrayed myself.
BER. I see it now. O'er his a prouder ensign Waves wide its ampler folds--the staff of France,-- The royal Charles has gained.
JOAN. Oh! do not frown.
Nought harbours in this breast that may provoke Or scorn from him, or just rebuke from thee.
Yet have I shrunk from ev'ry eye, and now I shrink from thine--think not unkindly of me, And spare allusion to this painful hour.
[_Exit._
BER. No, no, it cannot be. She doth mistake.
Love is no pa.s.sion in her breast. It is But sentiment refined, sustained and fed By her own heart; the offspring of events, Wherein so strange a part she hath performed.
Her country is her idol, centre, hope: She knows no other pa.s.sion but this one-- The love of her own land.
SCENE V.--_Interior of the Cathedral of Rheims._--_The Coronation._
ARCHBISHOP. CHARLES. JOAN.
ARCH. Faithful the promise.
'Twas spoke, 'tis done. France now demands her king; Scion of ancient root, hope of her line: And here in sight of her a.s.sembled chiefs, 'Tis mine to set this crown upon thy head, And with this oil, from Heaven first brought, anoint thee.
JOAN. Stand I indeed on earth? Is this no dream?
ARCH. Mark well the circle which must bind thy brow!
Emblem of ceaseless duty and reward.
Look on these gems--so be thy virtues bright.
Tears from thy people drawn, by ill-stretched power, Will dim their l.u.s.tre; while the grateful smiles, By kindness waked, will brilliancy impart, And show that Heaven approves and dwells with thee-- A curse or blessing shall this circlet prove, Fetters in h.e.l.l, a fadeless crown in heaven.
[_The crown is placed on the head of Charles._ Sound the loud trumpet! Let the organ's swell Re-echo through these walls! Long life to Charles!
Joy to the rightful, to the usurper shame!
JOAN. I cannot pray: bliss hath engrossed my soul, And wrapt each sense in agony of joy.
ARCH. Approach, and pay your just allegiance.
[_The n.o.bles involuntarily draw back and make way for Joan, who throws herself at the king's feet._
JOAN. My sovereign liege--my king--accept--these tears.
CHA. Here to my heart I clasp thee, friend, preserver.
This chain shall bind thee to thy king, thy country-- [_Takes the chain from his neck and places it on Joan's._ Wear it in token of this hour--
JOAN. My liege!
When it shall be restored, 'twill tell that life And I are parted. (_To the Archbishop._) Now complete my mission.
Here at thy feet, sword, banner, I depose, And consecrate his own to Him who armed At first my hand.
ARCH. The lofty strains repeat!
And with the monarch's name, beloved, now join The holy maiden's.
[_Joan sinks on her knee._
END OF ACT THE THIRD.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.--_Council._
CHARLES, &c. JOAN.
CHA. A monarch now confirmed by holy rite, Our earliest duty is to recompense All those who in our cause have been most zealous.
Thee above all, (_to Joan,_) to thee our realm we owe.
We would thy merit mark as may become Ourself and thee: but pause to name award As to thyself shall be most pleasing. Louvel, 'Tis thine to learn her wish, our joy to grant it.
LOU. Such gracious speech may well embolden thee.
Name freely thy desire. Is wealth thy wish?
CHA. How her eye kindles!
JOAN. Sell my heart's blood for gold!
Hazard each desperate chance, die ev'ry hour, Deprive poor nature of her due, food--rest, Make the vile flesh lord of the daring mind, For sordid heaps of dross! Perish the thought!
I am not to be bought e'en by my country-- Toil, hards.h.i.+p, life, all she approved in me, A free gift was bestowed, and must remain-- If she the present scorn, I scorn them too.
LOU. Then, wherefore, peril life? Hope of reward, The state's high honours, riches, rank, and greatness, Justly make spirits bold, and wake brave action.
