Of her high mission rous'd, the Maiden's soul

Collected, and she spake.

"My Theodore,

"Thou hast done wrong to quit thy mother's home!

"Alone and aged she will weep for thee,

Wasting the little that is left of life

"In anguish. Go thee back again to Arc,

And cheering so her wintry hour of age,

"Cherish my memory there."

Swift he exclaim'd,

"Nay Maid! the pang of parting is o'erpast,

"And Elinor looks on to the glad hour

"When we shall both return.

Amid the war

"How many an arm will seek thy single life,

"How many a sword pierce thro' thy brittle mail, "Wound thy fair face, or, driven with impious rage, "Gore thy white bosom! JOAN, I will go with thee, "And spread the guardian shield !"

Again the Maid

Grew pale; for of her last and terrible hour

The vision'd scene she saw. "Nay," she replied, "I shall not need thy succour in the war.

"Me heaven, if so seem good to its high will, I shall be happier, Theodore,

"Will save.

"Thinking that thou dost sojourn safe at home, "And make thy mother happy."

The youth's cheek

A rapid blush disorder'd. "O! the Court
"Is pleasant, and thy soul would fain forget
"An obscure Villager, who only boasts
"The treasure of the heart !"

She look'd at him

With the reproaching eye of tenderness : "Devoted for the realm of France, I go

"A willing victim. The unpierced veil "To me was rais'd, my gifted eye beheld "The fearful features of Futurity.

"Yes, Theodore, I shall redeem my country, "Abandoning for this the joys of life,

"Yea, life itself!" then on his neck she fell

And with a faultering voice, "return to Arc! "I do not tell thee there are other maids

"As fair; for thou wilt love my memory,

66

Hallowing to it the temple of thy heart.

* Worthy a happier, not a better love, "My Theodore !"-Then, pressing his pale lips A last and holy kiss the Virgin fix'd,

And rush'd across the plain.

She reach'd the court

Breathless. The mingled movements of her mind
Shook every fibre. Sad and sick at heart,
Fain to her lonely chamber's solitude

The Maiden had retir'd; but her the King
Met on the threshold. He of the late scene
Forgetful and his crime, as chearful seem'd
As tho' there had not been a God in Heaven!
"Enter the hall," he cried, "the masquers

there

"Join in the dance. Why Maiden art thou sad?

Digna minus misero, non meliore viro.

Ovid

"Has that rude madman shook thy gentle frame

"With his strange frenzies ?"

Ere the Maid replied

The son of Orleans came with joyful speed

Poising his massy javelin.

"Thou hast rous'd

"The sleeping virtue of the sons of France;

"They croud around the standard," cried the chief.

My lance is ponderous, I have sharp'd my sword

"To meet the mortal combat. Mission'd Maid, "Our brethren sieged in Orleans, every moment

"Gaze from the watch-tower with the sick'ning eye "Of expectation."

Then the King exclaim'd

"O chosen by Heaven! defer one day thy march, "That humbled at the altar we may join

"The general prayer. Be these our holy rites "To-morrow's task;-to night for merriment!"

The Maid replied "the wretched ones in Orleans

"In fear and hunger and expiring hope "Await my succour, and my prayers would plead

"In Heaven against me did they waste one hour "When active duty calls. For this night's mirth "Hold me excused; in truth I am not fit "For merriment; a heavy charge is on me "And I must let * go from me mortal thoughts."

Her heart was full, and pausing, she repress'd The unbidden anguish. "Lo! they croud around "The standard! Thou, Dunois, the chosen troops "Marshal in speed, for early with the dawn "We march to rescue Orleans from the foe."

2 Esdras, xiv. 14.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.