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Furious he came; her buckler broke the blow,
And forth she flash'd her sword, and with a stroke
Swift that no eye could ward it, and of strength
No mail might blunt, smote on his neck, his neck
Unfenced, for he in haste aroused had cast
An * armet on; resistless there she smote
And to the earth prone fell the headless trunk
Of Franquet.

Then on Burgundy she fixed Her eye severe. “ Go Chief, and thank thy God “ That he with lighter judgments visits thee Than fell on Sisera, or by Judith's hand “ He wrought upon the Assyrian ! thank thy God That when his vengeance smote the ruffian sons Of England, equall'd tho’ thou wert in guilt,

* The Armet or Chapelle de fer was an iron hat, occasionally put on by Knights when they retired from the heat of the battle to take breath, and at times when they could not with propriety go unarmed,

Thee he has spared to work by penitence " And better deeds atonement."

Thus she spake,

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 o'er the grey horizon, and the Loire
Form'd in its winding way islands of light
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 past. Her bending thitherwards
The Bastard met. New perils threaten us,"
He cried, “new toils await us ; Burgundy"

“ Fear not for Burgundy!” the Maid exclaim'd, “ 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 favoured, fled; yet not by flight “ Shall England's robber sons escape the arm 6. Of retribution. Even now our troops,

By battle unfatigued, unsatisfied “ With conquest, clamour to pursue the foe."

The Delegated Damsel thus replied :
So let them fly, Dunois ! but other toils
“ Than those of battle, these our hallowed troops
« Await. Look yonder to that carnaged plain!
• Behoves us there to delve the general grave.

Then, Chieftain, for pursuit, when we have paid

The rites of burial to our fellow men, “And hymn'd our gratitude to that ALL-JUST " Who gave the conquest. Thou, meantime, dispatch

Tidings to Chinon : bid the King set forth, “ That crowning him before assembled France, “ In Rheims delivered from the enemy,

I may accomplish all.”

So said the Maid, Then to the gate moved on. The assembled troops Beheld their coming Chief, and smote their shields, Clamouring their admiration; for they thought, That she would lead them to the instant war.

She wayed her hand, and Silence stilld the host. Then thus the mission'd Maid, “ Fellows in arms ! “ We must not speed to joyful victory, " Whilst our upburied comrades, on yon plain, Allure the carrion bird. Give we this day “ Tovur dead friends!"

Nor did she speak in vain.; For as she spake, the thirst of battle dies In every breast, such awe and love pervade 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; One little troop search carefully around, 'If haply they might find surviving yet Some wounded wretches. As they labour thus,

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 Cortrade, and she bade him speed to view
The coming army; or to meet their march
With friendly greeting, or if foes they came
With such array of battle as short space
Allowed: the Warrior sped across the plain,
And soon beheld the bannered lillies wave.

Their Chief was Richemont: he, when as he heard
What rites employed the Virgin, straightway bade
His troops assist in barial; they, tho' grieved
At late arrival, and the expected day
Of conquest past, yet give their willing aid :
They dig the general grave, and thither bear
English or French alike commingled now,
And heap the mound of Death.

Amid the Plain

There was a little eminence, of old

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