Maid of Orleans | Page 4

A sudden panic, as if sent
from God, Unnerves the courage of the bravest men. In vain the
summons of the king resounds As when the howling of the wolf is
heard, The sheep in terror gather side by side, So Frenchmen, careless
of their ancient fame, Seek only now the shelter of the towns. One
knight alone, I have been told, has brought A feeble company, and
joins the king With sixteen banners.
JOHANNA (quickly). What's the hero's name?
BERTRAND. 'Tis Baudricour. But much I fear the knight Will not be
able to elude the foe, Who track him closely with too numerous hosts.
JOHANNA. Where halts the knight? Pray tell me, if you know.
BERTRAND. About a one day's march from Vaucouleurs.
THIBAUT (to JOHANNA). Why, what is that to thee? Thou dost
inquire Concerning matters which become thee not.
BERTRAND. The foe being now so strong, and from the king No
safety to be hoped, at Vaucouleurs They have with unanimity resolved
To yield them to the Duke of Burgundy. Thus we avoid the foreign
yoke, and still Continue by our ancient royal line; Ay, to the ancient
crown we may fall back Should France and Burgundy be reconciled.
JOHANNA (as if inspired). Speak not of treaty! Speak not of surrender!
The savior comes, he arms him for the fight. The fortunes of the foe
before the walls Of Orleans shall be wrecked! His hour is come, He
now is ready for the reaper's hand, And with her sickle will the maid
appear, And mow to earth the harvest of his pride. She from the

heavens will tear his glory down, Which he had hung aloft among the
stars; Despair not! Fly not! for ere yonder corn Assumes its golden hue,
or ere the moon Displays her perfect orb, no English horse Shall drink
the rolling waters of the Loire.
BERTRAND. Alas! no miracle will happen now!
JOHANNA. Yes, there shall yet be one--a snow-white dove Shall fly,
and with the eagle's boldness, tear The birds of prey which rend her
fatherland. She shall o'erthrow this haughty Burgundy, Betrayer of the
kingdom; Talbot, too, The hundred-handed, heaven-defying scourge;
This Salisbury, who violates our fanes, And all these island robbers
shall she drive Before her like a flock of timid lambs. The Lord will be
with her, the God of battle; A weak and trembling creature he will
choose, And through a tender maid proclaim his power, For he is the
Almighty!
THIBAULT. What strange power Hath seized the maiden?
RAIMOND. Doubtless 'tis the helmet Which doth inspire her with such
martial thoughts. Look at your daughter. Mark her flashing eye, Her
glowing cheek, which kindles as with fire.
JOHANNA. This realm shall fall! This ancient land of fame, The
fairest that, in his majestic course, The eternal sun surveys--this
paradise, Which, as the apple of his eye, God loves-- Endure the fetters
of a foreign yoke? Here were the heathen scattered, and the cross And
holy image first were planted here; Here rest St. Louis' ashes, and from
hence The troops went forth who set Jerusalem free.
BERTRAND (in astonishment). Hark how she speaks! Why, whence
can she obtain This glorious revelation? Father Arc! A wondrous
daughter God hath given you!
JOHANNA. We shall no longer serve a native prince! The king, who
never dies, shall pass away-- The guardian of the sacred plough, who
fills The earth with plenty, who protects our herds, Who frees the
bondmen from captivity, Who gathers all his cities round his throne--

Who aids the helpless, and appals the base, Who envies no one, for he
reigns supreme; Who is a mortal, yet an angel too, Dispensing mercy
on the hostile earth. For the king's throne, which glitters o'er with gold,
Affords a shelter for the destitute; Power and compassion meet together
there, The guilty tremble, but the just draw near, And with the guardian
lion fearless sport! The stranger king, who cometh from afar, Whose
fathers' sacred ashes do not lie Interred among us; can he love our land?
Who was not young among our youth, whose heart Respondeth not to
our familiar words, Can he be as a father to our sons?
THIBAUT. God save the king and France! We're peaceful folk, Who
neither wield the sword, nor rein the steed. --Let us await the king
whom victory crowns; The fate of battle is the voice of God. He is our
lord who crowns himself at Rheims, And on his head receives the holy
oil. --Come, now to work! come! and let every one Think only of the
duty of the hour! Let the earth's great ones for the earth contend,
Untroubled we may view the desolation, For steadfast stand the acres
which we till. The flames consume our villages, our