Maid of Orleans | Page 3

Bohemian woman, with
this helm, Approached me, eyed me narrowly, and said: "Fellow, you
seek a helm; I know it well. Take this one! For a trifle it is yours." "Go
with it to the soldiers," I replied, "I am a husbandman, and want no
helm." She would not cease, however, and went on: "None knoweth if
he may not want a helm. A roof of metal for the Head just now Is of
more value than a house of stone." Thus she pursued me closely
through the streets, Still offering the helm, which I refused. I marked it
well, and saw that it was bright, And fair and worthy of a knightly head;
And when in doubt I weighed it in my hand, The strangeness of the

incident revolving, The woman disappeared, for suddenly The rushing
crowd had carried her away. And I was left the helmet in my hand.
JOHANNA (attempting eagerly to seize it). Give me the helmet!
BERTRAND. Why, what boots it you? It is not suited to a maiden's
head.
JOHANNA (seizing it from him). Mine is the helmet--it belongs to me!
THIBAUT. What whim is this?
RAIMOND. Nay, let her have her way! This warlike ornament
becomes her well, For in her bosom beats a manly heart. Remember
how she once subdued the wolf, The savage monster which destroyed
our herds, And filled the neighb'ring shepherds with dismay. She all
alone--the lion-hearted maid Fought with the wolf, and from him
snatched the lamb Which he was bearing in his bloody jaws. How
brave soe'er the head this helm adorned, It cannot grace a worthier one
than hers!
THIBAUT (to BERTRAND). Relate what new disasters have occurred.
What tidings brought the fugitives?
BERTRAND. May God Have pity on our land, and save the king! In
two great battles we have lost the day; Our foes are stationed in the
heart of France, Far as the river Loire our lands are theirs-- Now their
whole force they have combined, and lay Close siege to Orleans.
THIBAUT. God protect the king!
BERTRAND. Artillery is brought from every side, And as the dusky
squadrons of the bees Swarm round the hive upon a summer day, As
clouds of locusts from the sultry air Descend and shroud the country
round for miles, So doth the cloud of war, o'er Orleans' fields, Pour
forth its many-nationed multitudes, Whose varied speech, in wild
confusion blent, With strange and hollow murmurs fill the air. For
Burgundy, the mighty potentate, Conducts his motley host; the

Hennegarians, The men of Liege and of Luxemburg, The people of
Namur, and those who dwell In fair Brabant; the wealthy men of Ghent,
Who boast their velvets, and their costly silks; The Zealanders, whose
cleanly towns appear Emerging from the ocean; Hollanders Who milk
the lowing herds; men from Utrecht, And even from West Friesland's
distant realm, Who look towards the ice-pole--all combine, Beneath the
banner of the powerful duke, Together to accomplish Orleans' fall.
THIBAUT. Oh, the unblest, the lamentable strife, Which turns the arms
of France against itself!
BERTRAND. E'en she, the mother-queen, proud Isabel Bavaria's
haughty princess--may be seen, Arrayed in armor, riding through the
camp; With poisonous words of irony she fires The hostile troops to
fury 'gainst her son, Whom she hath clasped to her maternal breast.
THIBAUT. A curse upon her, and may God prepare For her a death
like haughty Jezebel's!
BERTRAND. The fearful Salisbury conducts the siege, The
town-destroyer; with him Lionel, The brother of the lion; Talbot, too,
Who, with his murd'rous weapon, moweth down The people in the
battle: they have sworn, With ruthless insolence to doom to shame The
hapless maidens, and to sacrifice All who the sword have wielded, with
the sword. Four lofty watch-towers, to o'ertop the town, They have
upreared; Earl Salisbury from on high Casteth abroad his cruel,
murd'rous glance, And marks the rapid wanderers in the streets.
Thousands of cannon-balls, of pond'rous weight, Are hurled into the
city. Churches lie In ruined heaps, and Notre Dame's royal tower
Begins at length to bow its lofty head. They also have formed
powder-vaults below, And thus, above a subterranean hell, The timid
city every hour expects, 'Midst crashing thunder, to break forth in
flames.
[JOHANNA listens with close attention, and places the helmet on her
head.
THIBAUT. But where were then our heroes? Where the swords Of

Saintrailles, and La Hire, and brave Dunois, Of France the bulwark,
that the haughty foe With such impetuous force thus onward rushed?
Where is the king? Can he supinely see His kingdom's peril and his
cities' fall?
BERTRAND. The king at Chinon holds his court; he lacks Soldiers to
keep the field. Of what avail The leader's courage, and the hero's arm,
When pallid fear doth paralyze the host?