Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey
Page 17
That he with lighter judgements visits thee
Than fell on Sisera, or by Judith’s hand 284
He wrought upon the Assyrian! Thank thy God,
That when his vengeance smote the invading sons
Of England, equal though thou wert in guilt,
Thee he has spar’d to work by penitence
And better deeds atonement.”
Thus she spake, 290
Then issued forth, and bounding on her steed
Sped o’er the plain. Dark on the upland bank
The hedge-row trees distinct and colourless
Rose on the grey horizon, and the Loire
Form’d in its winding way islands of light 295
Amid the shadowy vale, when now she reach’d
The walls of Orleans.
From the eastern clouds
The sun came forth, as to the assembled chiefs
The Maiden pass’d. Her bending thitherwards
The Bastard met. “New perils threaten us,” 300
He said, “new toils await us; Burgundy,...”
“Fear not for Burgundy!” the Maid replied,
“Him will the Lord direct. Our earliest scouts
Shall tell his homeward march. What of the troops
Of England?”
“They,” the son of Orleans cried,
“By darkness favour’d, fled; yet not by flight 306
Shall these invaders now escape the arm
Of retribution. Even now our troops,
By battle unfatigued, unsatisfied
With conquest, clamour to pursue the foe.” 310
The delegated Damsel thus replied:
“So let them fly, Dunois! But other work
Than that of battle, now must be perform’d
We move not in pursuit, till we have paid
The rites of burial to our countrymen, 315
And hymn’d our gratitude to that All-just
Who gave the victory. Thou, meantime, dispatch
Tidings to Chinon: let the King set forth,
That crowning him before assembled France,
In Rheims delivered from the enemy, 320
I may accomplish all.”
So said the Maid,
Then to the gate moved on. The assembled troops
Beheld her coming, and they smote their shields,
And with one voice of greeting bless’d her name
And pray’d her to pursue the flying foe. 325
She waved her hand, and silently they stood,
Attentive while she spake;.. “Fellows in arms!
We must not speed to joyful victory,
And leave our gallant comrades where they lie,
For dogs, and wolves, and carrion-birds a prey; 330
Ere we advance, let us discharge to them
The duty that is due.”
So said the Maid;
And as she spake, the thirst of battles dies
In every breast, such awe and love pervade 334
The listening troops. They o’er the corse-strewn plain
Speed to their sad employment: some dig deep
The house of death; some bear the lifeless load;
Others the while search carefully around,
If haply they may find surviving yet
Some wounded wretches. As they labour thus, 340
They mark far off the iron-blaze of arms;
See distant standards waving on the air,
And hear the clarion’s clang. Then spake the Maid
To Conrade, and she bade him haste to espy
The coming army; or to meet their march 345
With friendly greeting, or if foes they came
With such array of battle as short space
Allow’d: the warrior sped across the plain,
And soon beheld the banner’d lilies wave. 319
Their chief was Richemont: he when as he heard
What rites employed the Virgin, straightway bade
His troops assist in burial; they, though grieved
At late arrival, and the expected day
Of conquest past, yet give their willing aid:
They dig the general grave, and thither bear 355
English or French alike commingled now,
And heap the mound of death.
Amid the plain
There was a little eminence, of old
Raised o’er some honoured chieftain’s narrow house.
His praise the song had ceased to celebrate, 360
And many an unknown age had the long grass
Waved o’er that nameless mound though barren now
Beneath the frequent tread of multitudes.
There elevate, the martial Maiden stood,.
Her brow unhelm’d, and floating on the wind 365
Her long dark locks. The silent troops around
Stood thickly throng’d, as o’er the fertile field
Billows the ripen’d com. The passing breeze
Bore not a murmur from the numerous host,
Such deep attention held them. She began. 370
“Glory to those who in their country’s cause
Fall in the field of battle! Countrymen,
I stand not here to mourn these gallant men,
Our comrades, nor with vain and idle phrase
Of sorrow and compassion, to console 375
The friends who loved them. They indeed who fall
Beneath oppression’s banner, merit well
Our pity; may the God of Peace and Love
Be merciful to those blood-guilty men
Who came to desolate the realm of France, 380
To make us bow the knee, and crouch like slaves
Before a foreign master. Give to these,
And to their wives and orphan little-ones
That on their distant father vainly cry 384
For bread, give these your pity!... Wretched men,
Forced or inveigled from their homes, or driven
By need and hunger to the trade of blood;
Or, if with free and willing mind they came,
Most wretched,.. for before the eternal throne
Guilty alike in act and will, they stand. 390
But our dead comrades for their country fought;
No arts they needed, nor the specious bribes
Of promise, to allure them to this fight,
This holy warfare! them their parents sent, 394
And as they raised their streaming eyes to Heaven;
Bade them go forth, and from the ruffian’s sword
Save their grey hairs: them their dear wives sent out,
Fix’d their last kisses on their armed hands,
And bade them in the battle think they fought
For them and for their children. Thus inflamed,
By every milder feeling, they went forth, 401
They fought, they conquer’d. To this holy ground
The men of Orleans in the days to come
Shall bring their boys, and tell them of the deeds
Their countrymen achieved, and bid them learn 405
Like them to love their country, and like them,
Should usurpation pour again its tide
Of desolation, to step forth and stem
Fearless, the furious torrent. Men of France,
Mourn not for these our comrades! boldly they 410
Fought the good fight, and that Eternal One,
Who bade the Angels harbinger his Word
With ‘Peace on earth,’ rewards them. We survive,
Honouring their memories to avenge their fall
Upon the unjust invaders. They may drain 415
Their kingdom’s wealth and lavishly expend
Its blood, insanely thinking to subdue
This wide and populous realm; for easier were it
To move the ancient mountains from their base,
Than on a nation knowing its own strength 420
To force a foreign yoke.
France then is safe.
My glorious mission soon will be fulfill’d,
My work be done. But oh! remember ye,
And in their generation let your sons.
Transmit to theirs the all-concerning truth, 425
That a great people, wrongfully assail’d,
If faithful to themselves, and resolute
In duty to the last, betide what may,..
Although no signs be given, no miracles
Vouchsafed as now, no Prophetess ordain’d, 430
May yet with hope invincible hold on,
Relying on their courage, and their cause,
And the sure course of righteous Providence.
JOAN OF ARC. THE TENTH BOOK.
THUS to the martyrs in their country’s cause
The Maiden gave their fame; and when she ceased,
Such murmur from the multitude arose,
As when at twilight hour the summer breeze
Moves o’er the elmy vale. There was not one 5
Who mourn’d with feeble sorrow for his friend,
Slain in the fight of freedom; or if chance
Remembrance with a tear suffused the eye,
The patriot’s joy shone through.
And now the rites
Of sepulture perform’d, the hymn to Heaven 10
They chaunted. To the town the Maid return’d,
Dunois, with her, and Richemont, and the man
Conrade, whose converse most the Virgin loved.
They of pursuit and of the future war
Sat communing; when loud the trumpet’s voice 15
Proclaim’d a herald’s coming.
“To the Maid,”
Such was his errand, “and to thee, Dunois,
Son of the chief he loved, Du Chastel sends
Greeting. The aged warrior hath not spared
All active efforts to partake your toil, 20
And serve his country; and though late arrived,
He share not in the fame your arms acquire
His heart is glad that he is late arrived,
And France preserved thus early. He were here
To join your host, and follow the pursuit, 25
But Richemont is his foe. To that high Lord
Thus says my master: We, though each to each,
Be hostile, are alike the embattled sons
Of our dear country. Therefore do thou join
The conquering troops, and prosecute success; 30
I will the while assault what guarded towns
Bedford yet holds in Orleannois: one day,
Perhaps the Constable of France may learn
He wrong’d Du Chastel.”
As the herald spake,
Richemont’s cheek redden’d, partly with a sense 35
Of shame, and partly anger half supprest
“Say to thy master,” eagerly he said,
“I am the foe of those court parasites
Who poison the King’s ear. Him who shall serve
Our country in the field, I hold my friend: 40
Such may Du Chastel prove.”
So said the chief.
And pausing as the herald went his way,
Turn’d to the Virgin: “If I guess aright,
It is not from a friendly tongue’s report,
That thou hast heard of me.”
Dissembling not 45
The unwelcome truth, “Yes, chieftain!” she replied,
“Report bespeaks thee haughty, violent,
Suffering no rival, brooking no controul,
And executing by unrighteous means
The judgements of thine own unlawful will.” 50
“But hear me, Maid of Orleans!” he exclaim’d:
“Should the wolf enter thy defenceless flock,
Were it a crime if thy more mighty force
Destroy’d the fell destroyer? If thy hand
Had slain a ruffian as he burst thy door - 55
Prepared for midnight murder, should’st thou feel
The weight of blood press heavy on thy soul?
I slew the wolves of state, the murderers
Of thousands. Joan! when rusted in its sheath
The sword of justice hung, blamest thou the man
That lent his weapon for the righteous deed?” 61
Conrade replied, “Nay, Richemont, it were well
To slay the ruffian as he burst thy doors;
But if he bear the plunder safely thence, 64
And thou should’st meet him on the future day,
Vengeance must not be thine: there is the law
To punish; and the law allowèth not,
That the accuser take upon himself
The judge’s part; still less doth it allow
That he should execute upon the accused 70
Untried, unheard, a sentence, which so given
Bccomes, whate’er the case, itself a crime.”
“Thou hast said wisely,” cried the constable;
“But there are guilty ones above the law, 74
Men whose black crimes exceed the utmost bound
Of private guilt; court vermin that buzz round,
And fly-blow the King’s ear, and make him waste,
In this most perilous time, his people’s wealth
And blood; immersed one while in sensual sloth,
Heedless though ruin threat the realm they rule;
And now projecting some mad enterprize, 81
Sending their troops to sure defeat and shame.
These are the men who make the King suspect
His wisest, faithfullest, best counsellors;
And for themselves and their dependents, seize 85
All places, and all profits; and they, wrest
To their own ends the statutes of the land,
Or safely break them; thus, or indolent,
Or active, ruinous alike to France.
Wisely thou sayest, warrior, that the Law 90
Should strike the guilty; but the voice of Justice
Cries out, and brings conviction as it cries,
Whom the laws cannot reach, the dagger should.”
The Maid replied, “It seemeth then, O chief,
That reasoning to thine own conviction thus, 95
Thou standest self-acquitted of all wrong,
Self-justified, yea, self-approved. I ask not
Whether this public zeal hath look’d askaunt
To private ends; men easily deceive
Others, and oft more easily themselves. 100
But what if one reasoning as thou hast done
Had in like course proceeded to the act,
One of the people, one of low degree,
In whom the strong desire of public good
Had grown to be his one sole sleepless thought, 105
A passion, and a madness; raised as high
Above all sordid motives as thyself;
Beneath such impulses of rivalry
And such ambitious projects, as perforce
Men will impute to thee? had such a man 110
Stood forth the self-appointed minister
To execute his own decrees of death,
The law on him had rightfully enforced
That sentence, which the Almighty hath enjoin’d
Of life for life. Thou, chief, art by thy rank 115
And power exempted from the penalty:
What then hast thou exampled,.. right and wrong
Confounding thus, and making lawless might
The judge in its own quarrel? Trust me, chief,
That if a people sorely are oppress’d, 120
The dreadful hour of overthrow will come
Too surely and too soon! He best meanwhile
Performs the sage’s and the patriot’s part,
Who in the ear of rage and faction breathes
The healing words of love.”
Thus communed they.
Meantime, all panic-struck and terrified, 126
The English urge their flight; by other thoughts
Possess’d than when, elate with arrogance,
They dreamt of conquest, and the crown of France
At their disposal. Of their hard-fought fields, 130
Of glory hardly-earn’d, and lost with shame,
Of friends and brethren slaughter’d, and the fate
Threatening themselves, they brooded sadly, now
Repentant late and vainly. They whom fear
Erst made obedient to their conquering march, 135
Rise on them in defeat, while they retire,
Marking their path with ruin, day by day
Leaving the weak and wounded destitute
To the foe’s mercy; thinking of their home,
Though to that far-off prospect scarcely hope 140
Could raise a sickly eye. Oh then what joy
Inspired anew their bosoms, when, like clouds
Moving in shadows down the distant hill,
They saw their coming succours! In each heart
Doubt raised a busy tumult; soon they knew 145
The English standard, and a general shout
Burst from the joyful ranks: yet came no joy
To Talbot: he, with dark and downward brow,
Mused sternly, till at length aroused to hope
Of vengeance, welcoming his gallant son, 150
He brake a sullen smile.
“Son of my age,
Welcome young Talbot to thy first of fields.
Thy father bids thee welcome, though disgraced,
Baffled, and flying from a woman’s arm!
Yes, by my former glories, from a woman! 155
The scourge of France, the conqueror of men,
Flying before a woman! Son of Talbot,
Had the winds wafted thee a few days sooner,
Thou hadst seen me high in honour, and thy name
Alone had scatter’d armies; yet, my son, 160
I bid thee welcome I here we rest our flight,
And face again the foe.”
So spake the chief;
And well he counsell’d: for not yet the sun
Had reach’d meridian height, when o’er the plain
Of Patay, they beheld the troops of France 165
Speed in pursuit. Soon as the troops of France
Beheld the dark battalions of the foe’
Shadowing the distant plain, a general shout
Burst from the expectant host, and on they prest,
Elate of heart and eager for the fight, 170
With clamours ominous of victory.