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Brooded the field of death.

Nor in the camp

Deem themselves safe the trembling fugitives.
On to the forts they haste. Bewilder'd there
Amid the moats by fear, and the dead gloom
Of more than midnight darkness, plunge the troops,
Crush'd by fast following numbers who partake
The death they give. As rushing from the snows
Of winter liquified, the torrent tide

Resistless down the mountain rolls along,
Till at the brink of giddy precipice

Arrived, with deafening clamour down it falls:
Thus borne along, the affrighted English troops
Driven by the force behind them, plunge amid
The liquid death. Then rose the dreadful cries
More dreadful, and the dash of breaking waves
That to the passing lightning as they broke
Gleam'd horrible.

Nor of the host so late

Triumphing in the pride of victory,

And swoln with confidence, had now escaped
One wretched remnant, had not Talbot's mind,
Slow as he moved unwilling from the war,
What most might profit the defeated ranks,
Pondered. He reaching safe the massy fort
By St. John's name made holy, kindled up
The guiding fire. Not unobserved it blazed;
The watchful guards on Tournelles, and the pile
Of that proud city, in remembrance fond

Call'd London, light the beacon. Soon the fires
Flame on the summit of the circling forts

That firm entrenched with walls and deep-delved moats
Included Orleans. O'er the shadowy plain

They cast a lurid splendor; to the troops
Grateful, as to the way-worn traveller,

Wandering with parched feet o'er the Arabian sands,
The far-seen cistern; he for many a league

Travelling the trackless desolate, where heaved
With tempest swell the desart billows round,

Pauses, and shudders at his perils past,

Then wild with joy speeds on to taste the wave

So long bewail'd.

Swift as the affrighted herd

Scud o'er the plain, when frequent thro' the sky
Flash the fierce lightnings, speed the routed host
Of England. To the sheltering forts they haste,
Tho' safe, of safety doubtful, still appall'd
And trembling, as the pilgrim who by night
On his way wilder'd, to the wolf's deep howl
Hears the wood echo, when from the fell beast
Escaped, of some tall tree the topmost branch
He grasps close clinging, still of that keen fang
Fearful, his teeth jar, and the big drops stand
On his cold quivering limbs.

Nor now the Maid

Greedy of vengeance urges the pursuit.
She bids the trumpet of retreat resound;
A pleasant music to the routed ranks

Blows the loud blast. Obedient to its voice

The French, tho' eager on the invaders' heads

To wreak their wrath, stay the victorious sword.

Loud is the cry of conquest as they turn

To Orleans. There what few to guard the town
Unwilling had remained, haste forth to meet
The triumph. Many a blazing torch they held
That rais'd aloft amid the midnight storm,

Flash'd far a festive light.
The Maid advanced;
Deepthro' the sky the hollow thunders roll'd;

The circumstance of the Maids entering Orleans at midnight in a storm of thunder and lightning is historically true. "The Englishmen perceiving that thei within could not long continue for faute of vitaile and pouder, kepte not their watche so diligently as thei wer accustomed, nor scoured not the countrey environed as thei before had ordained. Whiche negligence the Citezens shut in perceiving, sent worde therof to the French capitaines, which with Pucelle in the dedde tyme of the nighte, and in a greate rayne and thundre, with all their vitaile and artilery entered into the citie.

Hall fol. 127. Edmond Howes. Rapin.

Shakespear also notices this storm. stance is Chapelain has omitted it.

Striking as the circum

Innocuous lightnings round the hallowed banner

Wreath'd their red radiance;

Thro' the open'd gate

Slow past the laden convoy. Then was heard
The shout of exultation, and such joy

The men of Orleans at that welcome sight
Possess'd; as when from Bactria late subdued,
The Macedonian Madman led his troops
Amid the Sogdian desart, where no stream
Wastes on the wild its fertilizing waves.
Fearful alike to pause, or to proceed;

Y

Scorch'd by the sun that o'er their morning march Steam'd his hot vapours, heart subdued and faint; Such joy as then they felt, when from the heights Burst the soul-gladdening sound! for thence was seen The evening sun silvering the vale below,

Where Oxus roll'd along.

Clamours of joy

Echo along the streets of Orleans, wont
Long time to hear the infant's feeble cry,

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