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Furious he came; her buckler broke the blow,
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
From the eastern clouds
The sun came forth, as to the assembled chiefs
“ 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 :
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;
Their Chief was Richemont: he, when as he heard
Amid the Plain
There was a little eminence, of old