Part 402 (1/2)

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 rus.h.i.+ng 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed the lamb Which he was bearing in his b.l.o.o.d.y 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 G.o.d 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.

G.o.d 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 mult.i.tudes, 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 G.o.d 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.