Part 412 (1/2)

This morn, while gazing from Le Tournelle's tower, A ball from Orleans struck him to the ground.

Smilest thou that I discern what is remote?

Not to my words give credence; but believe The witness of thine eyes! his funeral train Thou shalt encounter as you goest hence!

Now, herald, speak, and do thine errand here.

HERALD.

If what is hidden thou canst thus reveal, Thou knowest mine errand ere I tell it thee.

JOHANNA.

It boots me not to know it. But do thou Give ear unto my words! This message bear In answer to the lords who sent thee here.

Monarch of England, and ye haughty dukes, Bedford and Gloucester, regents of this realm!

To heaven's high King you are accountable For all the blood that hath been shed. Restore The keys of all the cities ta'en by force In opposition to G.o.d's holy law!

The maiden cometh from the King of Heaven And offers you or peace or b.l.o.o.d.y war.

Choose ye! for this I say, that you may know it: To you this beauteous realm is not a.s.signed By Mary's son;--but G.o.d hath given it To Charles, my lord and Dauphin, who ere long Will enter Paris with a monarch's pomp, Attended by the great ones of his realm.

Now, herald, go, and speedily depart, For ere thou canst attain the British camp And do thine errand, is the maiden there, To plant the sign of victory at Orleans.

[She retires. In the midst of a general movement, the curtain falls.

ACT II.

Landscape, bounded by rocks.

SCENE I.

TALBOT and LIONEL, English generals, PHILIP, DUKE OF BURGUNDY, FASTOLFE, and CHATILLON, with soldiers and banners.

TALBOT.

Here let us make a halt beneath these rocks, And pitch our camp, in case our scattered troops, Dispersed in panic fear, again should rally.

Choose trusty sentinels, and guard the heights!

'Tis true the darkness s.h.i.+elds us from pursuit, And sure I am, unless the foe have wings, We need not fear surprisal. Still 'tis well To practice caution, for we have to do With a bold foe, and have sustained defeat.

[FASTOLFE goes out with the soldiers.

LIONEL.

Defeat! My general, do not speak that word.

It stings me to the quick to think the French To-day have seen the backs of Englishmen.

Oh, Orleans! Orleans! Grave of England's glory!

Our honor lies upon thy fatal plains Defeat most ignominious and burlesque!

Who will in future years believe the tale!

The victors of Poictiers and Agincourt, Cressy's bold heroes, routed by a woman?

BURGUNDY.

That must console us. Not by mortal power, But by the devil have we been o'erthrown!

TALBOT.

The devil of our own stupidity!

How, Burgundy? Do princes quake and fear Before the phantom which appals the vulgar?