He the brute vastness held aloft, and bore,
And headlong hurld, all shatter'd to the sea,
Down from the rock’s high summit, since that day
Him, hugest of the giants, chronicling,
Called Langoemagog.

The Maid of Arc

Bounds o'er the bridge, and to the wind unfurls
Her hallowed banner. At that welcome sight
A general shout of acclamation rose,
And loud, as when the tempest-tossing forest
Roars to the roaring wind ; then terror seiz'd
The garrison ; and fired anew with hope,
The fierce assailants to their prize rush on
Resistless. Vainly do their English foes
Hurl there their beams, and stones, and javelins,
And fire-brands ; fearless in the escalade,

fitted to such a beastial cruelty was his end; for hearing of a huge monster that from the Irish sea infested the coast, and in the pride of his strength foolishly attempting to set manly valour against a brute vastness, when his weapons were all in vain, by that horrible mouth he was catched up and devoured.”

Firm mount the French, and now upon the wall
Wage equal battle.

Burning at the sight
With indignation, Glacidas beheld
His troops fly scattered ; fast on every side
The foes 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,
And fix'd the bow-string, and against the Maid
Levelling, let loose : her arm was rais'd on high
To smite a fugitive: he glanced aside,
Shunning her deadly stroke, and thus receiv'd
The Chieftain's arrow : thro' bis ribs it pass’d,
And cleft that vessel, whence the purer blood,
Thro' many a branching channel o'er the frame
Meanders,

“Fool!" the enraged Chief exclaim'd, “ Would she had slain thee! thou hast lived too long."

Again he aim'd his arbalist : the string Struck forceful : swift the erring arrow sped Guiltless of blood, for lightly o’er the court Bounded the warrior Virgin. Glacidas Levelled his bow again; the fated shaft Fled true, and difficultly thro' 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 destined course.'' Ill-fated man! in vain with murderous hand Placing thy feathered quarrel in its groove, Dream'st thoa of JOAN subdued ! She from her neck Plucking the shaft unterrified, exclaim'd, “ This is a * favour! Frenchmen, let us on !

* “ The Tournelles adjoining to the Bridge, was kept by Glacidas, (one of the most resolute Captains among the English) having well encouraged his men to defend themselves and to fight for their lives.

The skirmish begins at nine of the clock in the morning, and the ladders are planted. A

“ Escape they cannot from the hand of God!"

But Conrade, rolling round his angry eyes,

storm of English arrows falls upon our men with such violence as they recoiled. “ How now!" (saith the Virgin) “ have we begun so well to end so ill ? let us charge! they are our own, seeing God is on our side !" so every one recovering his forces, flocks about the Virgin. The English double the storm upon the thickest of the troops. The Virgin fighting in the foremost ranks and encouraging her men to do well was shot through the arm with an arrow; she, nothing amazed, takes the arrow in one hand and her sword in the other, “this is a favouri" (says she) “ let us go on! they cannot escape the hand of GOD!"

Chapelain has dilated this exclamation of the Maid into a ridiculous speech. Quoy! valeureux Guerriers, quoy! dans vostre avantage

de sang perdu vous fait perdre courage ! Pour moy, je le repute a supreme bonheur, Et dans ce petit mal je trouve un grand honneur ; Le succes, bien qu'heureux, n'eust eu rien d'honnorable, Si le Ciel n'eust permis un coup si favorable ; Vous n'en verres pas moins vos bras victorieux, J'en verray seulement mon nom plus glorieux.

L. III.

Un peu

1

Beheld the English Chieftain as be aim'd
Again the bow : with rapid step he strode;
Nor did not Glacidas the Frank perceive ;
At him he drew the string : the powerless dart
Fell blunted from his buckler. Fierce he came
And lifting high his ponderous battle-axe,
Full on his shoulder drove the furious stroke
Deep-buried in his bosom : prone he fell,
The cold air rush'd upon his heaving heart.
One whose low lineage gave no second name
Was * Glacidas, a gallant man, and still

* I can make nothing English of this name. Monstrellet calls him Clacedas and Clasendas. Daniel says the principal leaders of the English were Suffolk, Talbot, Scales, Fastolffe, et un nommé Glacidas ou Clacidas, dont le mérite suppléant à la naissance, l'avoit fait parvenir aux prémieres charges de l'armée.

The importance attached to a second name is well exemplified by an extract in Selden, relating to “ the creation of Robert Earle of Glocester natural sonne to King Henry I. The King having speech with Mabile the sole daughter and heire of Robert Fitz Hayman Lord of Glocester, told her (as