Joan of Arc Part 13

JOAN. The voice of Heaven first drew me from obscurity, And no reward I seek but its approval.

Oh! never, for the hope of gain, could I Have served my country. Claims she not by right, All love, disinterested faith, all service?

Not hers the debt to recompense her sons, Though, like fond mother, she delights to grant it; But theirs the debt of grat.i.tude first due To her, which only thus can be discharged.

Then mark eternal shame upon his brow, Though brave his deeds, though prodigal of toil, Who honour, glory, high renown, or wealth, Seeks for himself alone, and sheds the blood She justly claims for selfish hope or aim.

LOU. Ambition is the offspring of all hearts In which a germ of n.o.ble pa.s.sion dwells.

None who in secret feel themselves above The sphere of those with whom they move, but sighed For greatness--rank.

JOAN. What is it to be great?

To live in tapestried halls, beneath gay domes, To sleep on beds of down, eat costly food, Midst trembling slaves, who watch the stern command; To call those friends who bow and cringe and fawn, And flatter loud the vice they should condemn?

This is dependence, nought but servile pomp, And this I scorn. To rise above the wants Of this low state, to hold each appet.i.te In justest bounds, in native freedom both Of mind and frame to dare all ills but vice, And fear no danger but a tainted name; Glory's own self to love, and not th' applause Which follows open-mouthed amongst her train; To walk the earth as one whose home is heaven, And prizing life, yet view in death a friend, Or clothed in frowns, or robed in smiles,--this, this Alone is to be great:--then needs there rank To make me such?

ALEN. The brave lives not for to-day.

He thinks of generations yet to come, And trusts his ashes e'en will speak his praise, And bid his memory live.

JOAN. No eye must read, On tablet proud, what recompense were mine, Lest it mistake the cause which prompted me.

In history's living page let me appear, Simply as Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans.

CHA. And wilt thou have it seen in that same page Thy king ungrateful proved?

JOAN. Stain thy fair name!

CHA. Then be our will obeyed, and this day's grant, In rank, as erst in deed, shall make thee n.o.ble.

Countess of Lys, with fair demesnes and wide, a.s.sume thy proper seat, and grace a court Which yet upon thyself confers no l.u.s.tre-- To night a splendid fete we give, and there Thy king, and all who honour him, shall show Their just respect.

[_Rises. Joan throws herself at his feet._

JOAN. My leige.

CHA. What wouldst thou? Speak.

JOAN. Forgive my suit. Oh! deem me not ungrateful:-- Cancel the word, and let me sink again Into obscurity.

CHA. It cannot be.

Still with our host remain, and lead us forth To victory. Of this anon. Pleasure Now claims the hours. All here must join the fete.

SCENE II.--_Palace._

ALENcON. DU NOIS.

ALEN. Met in good time! If I may augur right, The maid, our nation's pride, will need, ere long, Support from her best friends.

DU N. What hath she done?

ALEN. Awoke the bitter malice of the base, Who dare not emulate a n.o.ble deed, And feel its just reward their own reproach.

DU N. That she is envied can provoke no wonder; Nothing may shine without attendant shade: But that she yielded to receive such honour, This indeed surprises me.

ALEN. It need not.

Hardly the point was gained, if gained at all: Still she entreats permission to depart, Lowly as when she left her native vale.

DU N. And what is there in this to waken malice?

Whose heart is large enough to envy it?

ALEN. You do forget, no words give more offence Than those which mark the speaker's higher worth.

Her n.o.ble sentiments this day expressed, Have wrought her many foes; nor does the fete, Proposed this eve, yield greater satisfaction.

DU N. The news I bring must break upon these joys: I seek the king, and must not pause a moment!

[_Exeunt._

_Enter VALANCOUR._

VAL. He here! and wherefore come? To own his love, No doubt, since now in rank she equals him.

There's madness in the thought! Accursed chance!

Why did I slight the counsel Richemont gave, Withheld by paltry fears of blighted honour!

Shall I turn villain? disappoint his hopes?

I want the resolution to be base, Yet have not courage to be just.

SCENE III.--_Gardens illuminated._

XAINTRAILLES. LORDS.

FIRST LORD. What vain extravagance! None may deny That she hath served the state; but truest service, Suppose hers such, may yet be overpaid.

SECOND LORD. Others have n.o.bly planned, and n.o.bly fought; But all their glory is eclipsed in hers.

I sicken of the name!

XAINT. For shame! true glory Never can be eclipsed. Is not yon planet Distinct in its own splendour, though the moon Sheds more and brighter beams? Well hath she earned The honour she receives: a soul like hers Has nature's patent, fairer than a monarch's.

FIRST LORD. Soon will she feel she hath uneasy place Among the n.o.bles of the land, and find Wide difference between a court and camp.

XAINT. Away with such surmise! Let us not mar The gay festivities by churlish murmurs.

Many our toils to come, and if we slight The present, pleasure in despite may shun us.

_Enter VALANCOUR and BERTHA._

BER. Urge me no more.

VAL. Nay, hear what I would say.

Such is the madness of my pa.s.sion for her, She must, and shall be mine! and thou must aid me!

This night decides my fate!

BER. Oh! ask me not!

VAL. In tears! and why? Loves she then another?

BER. Look not so wildly!

VAL. Speaks she of Du Nois!