Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey

by Robert Southey

  Its bulk of waters, though amid the fall

  Shatter’d, and dashing silvery from the rock.

  Lo! on the bridge forth comes the undaunted man,

  Conrade! the gather’d foes along the wall

  Throng opposite, and on him point their pikes, 325

  Cresting with armed men the battlements

  He undismay’d, though on that perilous height,

  Stood firm, and hurl’d his javelin; the keen point

  Pierced through the destined victim, where his arm

  Join’d the broad breast: a wound which skilful care

  Haply had heal’d; but, him disabled now 331

  For farther service, the unpitying throng

  Of his tumultuous comrades from the wall

  Thrust headlong. Nor did Conrade cease to throw

  His deadly javelins fast, for well within 335

  The tower was stored with weapons, to his hand

  Quickly supplied. Nor did the mission’d Maid

  Rest idle from the combat; she, secure,

  Aim’d the keen quarrel, taught the cross-bow’s use

  By the willing mind that what it well desires 340

  Gains aptly: nor amid the numerous throng,

  Though haply erring from their destin’d mark,

  Sped her sharp arrows frustrate. From the tower

  Ceaseless the bow-strings twang: the knights below,

  Each by his pavais bulwark’d, thither aim’d 345

  Their darts, and not a dart fell woundless there;

  So thickly throng’d they stood, and fell as fast

  As when the monarch of the East goes forth

  From Gemna’s banks and the proud palaces

  Of Delhi, the wild monsters of the wood 350

  Die in the blameless warfare: closed within

  The still-contracting circle, their brute force

  Wasting in mutual rage, they perish there,

  Or by each other’s fury lacerate,

  The archer’s barbed arrow, or the lance 355

  Of some bold youth of his first exploits vain,

  Rajah or Omrah, in the war of beasts

  Venturous, and learning thus the love of blood.

  Shouts of alarm ring now along the wall, 359

  For now the French their scaling ladders place,

  And bearing high their bucklers, to the assault

  Mount fearless: from above the furious troops

  Fling down such weapons as inventive care

  Or frantic rage supplies: huge stones and beams

  Crush the assailants; some, thrust from the height,

  Fall living to their death; tormented some 366

  And writhing wildly as the liquid lead

  Consumes their flesh, leap desperately down,

  To end their pain by death. Still others mount,

  And by their fellows’ fate unterrified, 370

  Still dare the perilous way. Nor dangerless

  To the English was the fight, though where they stood

  The vantage-place was theirs; for them amidst

  Fast fled the arrows there; and brass-wing’d darts,

  There driven resistless from the espringal, 375

  Keeping their impulse even in the wound,

  Whirl as they pierce the victim. Some fall crush’d

  Beneath the ponderous fragment that descends

  The heavier from its height: some the long lance,

  Whizzing impetuous on its viewless way, 380

  Transfix’d. The cannon ever and anon

  With thunder rent the air; conflicting shouts

  And war-cries French and English rung around,

  And Saints and Devils were invoked in prayers

  And execrations, Heaven and Hell adjured. 385

  Conrade, meantime, who stood upon the bridge,

  With many a well-aim’d javelin dealing death,

  Made way upon the rampart and advanced

  With wary valour o’er his slaughter’d foes.

  Two youths, the boldest of the English host, 390

  Essay’d to thrust him from that perilous height;

  At once they press’d upon him: he, his axe

  Dropping, the dagger drew: one through the throat

  He pierced, and swinging his broad buckler round,

  Struck down his comrade. Even thus unmoved,

  Stood Corineus, the sire of Guendolen, 396

  When grappling with his monstrous enemy

  He the brute vastness held aloft, and bore,

  And headlong hurl’d, all shatter’d to the sea,

  Down from the rock’s high summit, since that day

  Him, hugest of the giants, chronicling, 401

  Called Langoemagog.

  Behold the Maid

  Bounds o’er the bridge, and to the wind displays

  Her hallowed banner. At that welcome sight

  A general shout of acclamation rose, 405

  And loud, as when the tempest-tossing forest

  Roars to the roaring wind. Then terror seized

  The garrison; and tired anew with hope,

  The fierce assailants to their prize rush on

  Resistless. Vainly do their English foes 410

  Hurl there their beams, and stones, and javelins,

  And fire-brands; fearless in the escalade,

  The assailants mount, and now upon the wall

  Wage equal battle.

  Burning at the sight

  With indignation, Glacidas beheld 415

  His troops fly scatter’d; fast on every side

  The foe up-rushing eager to their spoil;

  The holy standard waving; and the Maid

  Fierce in pursuit. “Speed but this arrow, Heaven!”

  The chief exclaim’d, “and I shall fall content.”

  So saying, he his sharpest quarrel chose, 421

  And fix’d the bow-string, and against the Maid

  Levelling, let loose: her arm was raised on high

  To smite a fugitive; he glanced aside,

  Shunning her deadly stroke, and thus received 425

  The chieftain’s arrow: through his ribs it pass’d,

  And cleft that vessel whence the purer blood

  Through many a branching channel o’er the frame

  Meanders.

  “Fool!” the exasperate knight exclaim’d,

  “Would she had slain thee! thou hast lived too long.”

  Again he aim’d his arbalist: the string 431

  Struck forceful: swift the erring arrow sped

  Guiltless of blood, for lightly o’er the court

  Bounded the warrior Virgin. Glacidas

  Levell’d his bow again; the fated shaft 435

  Fled true, and difficultly through the mail

  Pierced to her neck, and tinged its point with blood.

  “She bleeds! she bleeds!” exulting cried the chief;

  “The sorceress bleeds! nor all her hellish arts

  Can charm my arrows from their destin’d course.”

  Ill-fated man! in vain with eager hand 441

  Placing thy feather’d quarrel in its groove,

  Dream’st thou of Joan subdued! She from her neck

  Plucking the shaft unterrified, exclaim’d,

  “This is a favour! Frenchmen, let us on!

  “ 5

  Escape they cannot from the hand of God!”

  But Conrade, rolling round his angry eyes,

  Beheld the English chieftain as he arm’d

  Again the bow: with rapid step he strode;

  And Glacidas perceiving his approach, 450

  At him the quarrel turn’d, which vainly sent,

  Fell blunted from his buckler. Conrade came

  And lifting high the deadly battle-axe,

  Through pouldron and through shoulder deeply driven

  Buried it in his bosom: prone he fell, 455

  The cold air rush’d upon his heaving heart.

  One whose lo
w lineage gave no second name

  Was Glacidas, a gallant man, and still

  His memory in the records of the foe

  Survives.

  And now dishearten’d at his fall 460

  The vanquish’d English fly towards the gate,

  Seeking the inner court, as yet in hope

  To abide a second siege, and with their friends

  Find present refuge there. Mistaken men!

  The vanquish’d have no friends! defeated thus,

  Press’d by pursuit, in vain with eager voice 466

  They call their comrades in the suppliant tones

  Of pity now, now with the bitter curse

  Of fruitless anger; they indeed within

  Fast from the ramparts cast upon the French 470

  Beams, stones, and javelins,.. but the gate is barr’d,

  The huge portcullis down!

  Then terror seized

  Their hopeless hearts: some, furious in despair,

  Turn on their foes; fear-palsied some await

  The coming death; some drop the useless sword,

  And cry for mercy.

  Then the Maid of Arc 476

  Took pity on the vanquish’d; and she call’d

  Aloud, and cried unto the host of France,

  And bade them cease from slaughter. They obey’d

  The delegated Damsel. Some there were 480

  Apart who communed murmuring, and of those

  Graville address’d her: “Prophetess! our troops

  Are few in number; and to well secure

  These many prisoners such a force demands,

  As should we spare might shortly make us need

  The mercy we bestow; not mercy then, 386

  Rather to these our soldiers, cruelty.

  Justice to them, to France, and to our king,

  And that regard wise nature hath in each

  Implanted of self-safety, all demand 490

  Their deaths.”

  “Foul fall such evil policy!”

  The indignant Maid exclaim’d. “I tell thee, chief,

  GOD is with us! but GOD shall hide his face

  From them, short-sighted they, as hard of heart,

  Who disregarding all that mitigates, 495

  All that ennobles dreadful war, shed blood

  Like water; who in the deceitful scales

  Of worldly wisdom, dare to counterpoise

  The right with the expedient, and resolve

  Without compunction, as the beam inclines 500

  Held in a faultering or a faithless hand.

  These men shall live to see their homes again,

  Some to be welcomed there with tears of joy

  By those who to the latest hour of life

  Will in their grateful prayers remember us. 505

  And when that hour shall come to us, that comes

  To all, how gladly should we then exchange

  Renown however splendid, for the thought

  That we have saved one victim from the sword,..

  If only one,.. who begs for us from Heaven 510

  That mercy which to others we have shown!”

  Turning to Conrade, then she said, “Do thou

  Appoint an escort for the prisoners.

  Thou need’st not be reminded they are men,

  Rather by fortune, or by fate, than choice, 515

  Brought hither from their homes to work our bale,

  And for their own not less; but yielded thus

  Whom we must neither treat as enemies

  Nor trust as friends, but in safe keeping hold,

  Both for their own security and ours.” 520

  She said: when Conrade cast his eyes around,

  And saw from man to man where Francis ran,

  Bidding them spare the vanquish’d; him he hail’d.

  “The Maid hath bade me chuse a leader forth

  To guard the prisoners; thou shalt be the man;

  For thou wilt guard them with due diligence, 526

  Yet not forgetful of humanity.”

  Meantime the garrison of that strong-hold,

  Who lest the French should enter, had exposed

  Their comrades to the sword, sustain’d the siege

  In desperate valour. Fast against the walls 531

  The battering-ram was driven; the mangonels

  Plied at the ramparts fast; the catapults

  Drove there their dreadful darts; the war-wolfs there

  Hurl’d their huge stones; and, through the kindled sky,

  The engines shower’d their sheets of liquid fire. 536

  “Feel ye not, comrades, how the ramparts shake?”

  Exclaim’d a daring Englishman. “Our foes

  In woman-like compassion, have dismiss’d

  A powerful escort, weakening thus themselves, 540

  And giving us fair hope, in equal field,

  Of better fortune. Sorely here annoy’d,

  And slaughter’d by their engines from afar,

  We perish. Vainly may the soldier boast

  Undaunted courage and the arm of strength, 545

  If thus pent up, like some wild beast he falls,

  Mark’d for the hunter’s arrows. Let us out

  And meet them in the battle, man to man,

  Either to conquer, or at least to die 549

  A soldier’s death.”

  “Nay, nay.. not so,” replied

  One of less hopeful courage. “Though they point

  Their engines here, our archers not in vain

  Discharge their quarrels. Let the walls and works

  Still be defended; it will then be time

  To meet them in the battle man to man, 555

  When these shall fail us.”

  Scarcely had he said,

  When a huge stone, thrown from some petrary

  Smote him upon the breast, and with dismay

  Fill’d all around; for as it shattered him,,

  His blood besprinkled them, and they beheld 560

  His mangled lungs lie quivering.

  “Such the fate

  Of those who trust them to their walls’ defence!”

  Again exclaim’d the soldier: “Thus they fall,

  Betray’d by their own fears. Courage alone

  Can save us.”

  Nor to draw them from the fort

  Now needed eloquence; with one accord 56

  They bade him lead the onset Forth they rush’d

  Impetuous. With such fury o’er the plain,

  Swoln by the autumnal tempest, Vega rolls

  His rapid waters, when the gathered storm, 570

  Ou the black heights of Hatteril bursting, swells

  The tide of desolation..

  Then the Maid

  Spake to the son of Orleans, “Let our troops

  Fall back, so shall the English in pursuit

  Leave this strong fortress, thus an easy prey.” 575

  Time was not for long counsel. From the court,

  Obedient to Dunois, the French retire

  As if at the irruption of their foes

  Dishearten’d; they, with shouts and loud uproar,

  Haste to their fancied conquest: Joan, the while

  Placing a small but gallant garrison, 581

  Bade them secure the gates; then sallying forth,

  With such fierce onset charged them in the rear,

  That terror smote the English, and they wish’d

  Again that they might hide them in their walls 585

  Rashly abandoned, for now wheeling round

  Dunois attack’d their flank. All captainless,

  Ill-marshall’d, ill-directed, in vain rage

  They waste their furious efforts, falling fast

  Before the Maid’s good falchion and the arm 590

  Of Conrade: loud was heard the mingled sound

  Of arms and men; the soil, that trampled late

  By multitudes, sent up its stifling clouds
<
br />   Of dust, was miry now with human blood.

  On the fort’s summit Talbot mark’d the fight,

  And calling for his arms impatiently, 596

  Eager to issue forth, was scarce withheld,

  For now, dishearten’d and discomfited,

  The troops took flight.

  Upon the bridge there stood

  A strong-built tower, commanding o’er the Loire.

  The traveller sometimes linger’d on his way, 601

  Marking the playful tenants of the stream,

  Seen in its shadow, stem the sea-ward tide;

  This had the invaders won in hard assault,

  Before the delegate of Heaven came forth 605

  And made them fear who never fear’d till then.

  Thither the English troops with hasty steps

  Retired, not utterly defeated yet,

  But mindful of defence: the garrison

  Them thus retreating saw, and open threw 610

  Their guarded gates, and on the Gallic host,

  Covering their vanquish’d fellows, pour’d their shafts.

  Cheek’d in pursuit they stop. Then Graville cried,

  “Ill, Maiden, hast thou done! those valiant troops

  Thy womanish pity has dismiss’d, with us 615

  Conjoin’d might press upon the vanquish’d foe,

  Though aided thus, and plant the lilied flag

  Victorious on yon tower.”

  “Dark-minded man!”

  The Maid of Orleans answer’d, “to act well

  Brings with itself an ample recompence. 620

  I have not rear’d the Oriflamme of death..

  Now God forbid! The banner of the Lord

  Is this, and come what will, me it behoves,

  Mindful of Him whose minister I am,

  To spare the fallen foe: that gracious God 625

  Sends me a messenger of mercy forth,

  Sends me to save this ravaged realm of France,

  To England friendly as to all the world,

  Only to those an enemy, whose lust

  Of sway makes them the enemies of man.” 630

  She said, and suddenly threw off her helm;

  Her bosom heaved,.. her cheek grew red,.. her eyes

  Beam’d with a wilder lustre. “Thou dost deem

  That I have illy spared so large a band,

  Disabling from pursuit our weaken’d troops;.. 635

  God is with us!” she cried.. “God is with us!

  Our champion manifest!”

  Even as she spake,

  The tower, the bridge, and all its multitudes,