Joan of Arc Part 7

XAINT. Day's harbinger, with chilly lips, has kissed The pine's tall top. The camp is locked in sleep So deep, that yon marauding fox's step Distinctly may be heard.

DU N. Sleep flies my lids-- For the first time I dread to-morrow's chance.

The attempt is bold, and skilfully conceived, On Suffolk's ranks to fall, and break his force Ere Talbot can arrive and strength unite; But if the project fail!--(_Aside,_) I cannot think Of her disgraced, without a pang.

XAINT. Should fail!

Who fears defeat in what the maid devises?

DU N. Heaven doth not always smile on those he loves.

Time offers marvels: once the name of Joan I scorned, abhorred! I do not hate it now, Though now I've cause. She robs me of renown, And at her bidding I unsheath my sword.

XAINT. She may be proud!--a victory she has won, That spirit to subdue. She hath in truth A charm to make stern hearts most meek, and yet She is not beautiful, as men count beauty.

DU N. She is the better suited to my taste; I do despise the doll, where nought of soul Is ever seen to light the faultless eye.

XAINT. Yet glances have been cast on thee Which might have thawed the coldest heart, and caused An angry lance to tremble in its rest.

DU N. Hers is that beauty by the mind conferred, The outward vestment lumined by the soul, Which sets respect as centinel to guard The treasure stored within, and from approach Too near, restrains those whisperers of nought, Who throng impertinent around the form, Which owes to symmetry alone, and feature, Its power to fascinate. There is a dignity Withal in her simplicity, which awes The surer for the company unwont In which 'tis found. Nature herein has mocked The cunning artist's skill, who, in a rim Of purest silver sets his goodliest stone, Making the metal richer for the gem.

XAINT. Thou lovest her then?

DU N. Are words denied the heart Of firmest mould, or what enchains my tongue?

If life for life, if soul for soul exchanged, So honour were retained, be mark of love, Then love I her.

XAINT. Thou surely wilt not wed her, When easier terms--

DU N. Now, by my sword's good point, For that foul thought I could a vengeance take Which should forbid all chance of like offence.

Ah! witness not these swelling veins, that I Myself am heir of wanton shame, and worse, Of broken faith? Sits not the stamp accursed Of b.a.s.t.a.r.dy upon my brow, to dim The gems that in my coronet might sparkle?

And shall I imitate the vice I scorn, And wring some breast with anguish like my own?

Hear me, ye mighty Pow'rs above, if e'er, Through me, should fall the tear of broken virtue; If cry of babe that may not bear my name, Ascend, then may that tear consume my heart, And that faint cry o'erpower my prayer for mercy.

XAINT. I meant not to offend: my foolish words Thus oft disgrace my thoughts.

DU N. Enough! if mine She e'er become 't shall be in holiest bands; But if thou value me, ne'er breathe the secret.

She is not to be won as other maids, And never can I brook refusal. Hark!

The trumpet calls.

XAINT. I leave thee for my post.

DU N. And I for mine.

SCENE IV.

JOAN, DU NOIS, XAINTRAILLES, VALANCOUR, &c.

JOAN. Warriors and chiefs of France! from such a presence I should have shrunk, had I not felt within me A mighty impulse not to be controlled.

Impute not then to arrogance, or worse, Unfeminine delight, that here I stand Prepared to lead to deeds of ghastly carnage.

Let my s.e.x and weakness sleep in my mission, And view me only as the choice of Heaven.

Look at this banner! mark its waving folds!

The breath of liberty doth swell it wide, And liberty shall make its ample shade A freeman's shroud to cover him that falls; A freeman's home for him who shall survive.

This day we must inflict a blow so fatal That our proud foe may stagger in her strength.

DU N. And time it were that such a blow were struck.

Look on our desolated fields, our vines, Our groves destroyed. The sword hath mown the corn, And felled the arm that should have reaped the harvest.

XAINT. And heavy made the foot of many a maid Whose heart was only lighter than her steps.

JOAN. Oh, hapless country! loved, insulted soil!

Birth-place of heroes, martyrs, and of saints!

Land of my sires, by kindred blood embued!

Grave of my mother! altar of my G.o.d!

To thee I pledge the life which first thou gavest, Nor ask a higher, happier boon than this-- To die for thee!

DU N. Here also do I swear To pluck my country from a foreign yoke, Or perish in her cause!

OMNES. So swear we all!

VAL. (_aside._) Ah! 'tis not glory's flame, nor love of France, But love of her that flashes in his eye.

JOAN. What wait we?

DU N. But the signal.

JOAN. Give the word:-- Advance!

SCENE V.--_An English Camp._

SUFFOLK, OFFICERS, &c.

SUFF. To arms! sound an alarm!

Summon our chiefs!--each to his post!--away!

_Enter WARWICK and JOHN TALBOT._

WAR. War's hounds have slipped again their leash, And bear upon us.--Hark! the cry is up.

SUF. Be thine then first to meet the foe.

[_Exit WARWICK._

JOHN T. And I!

Oh! give me danger's post!--forget my youth;-- Think the father's honour hangs on the son.

SUF. Seek Warwick's side.

JOHN T. My deeds shall thank thee. Father!

Oh! tarry only till this field I've fought.

We must not meet till I have proved this gift, Whose motto to the sun I now display,[A] (_draws his sword,_) And claim it witness to the truth it speaks.

For my brave sire, old England, and St. George!