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The Maid of Orleans: A Tragedy Part 18

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Our new-culled laurel garland with our friend We fain would share. Come, n.o.ble fugitive!

Oh, come where justice and where victory dwell!

Even I, the messenger of heaven, extend A sister's hand to thee. I fain would save And draw thee over to our righteous cause!

Heaven hath declared for France! Angelic powers, Unseen by thee, do battle for our king; With lilies are the holy ones adorned, Pure as this radiant banner is our cause; Its blessed symbol is the queen of heaven.

BURGUNDY.



Falsehood's fallacious words are full of guile, But hers are pure and simple as a child's.

If evil spirits borrow this disguise, They copy innocence triumphantly.

I'll hear no more. To arms, Dunois! to arms!

Mine ear, I feel, is weaker than mine arm.

JOHANNA.

You call me an enchantress, and accuse Of h.e.l.lish arts. Is it the work of h.e.l.l To heal dissension and to foster peace?

Comes holy concord from the depths below?

Say, what is holy, innocent, and good, If not to combat for our fatherland?

Since when hath nature been so self-opposed That heaven forsakes the just and righteous cause, While h.e.l.l protects it? If my words are true, Whence could I draw them but from heaven above?

Who ever sought me in my shepherd-walks, To teach the humble maid affairs of state?

I ne'er have stood with princes, to these lips Unknown the arts of eloquence. Yet now, When I have need of it to touch thy heart, Insight and varied knowledge I possess; The fate of empires and the doom of kings Lie clearly spread before my childish mind, And words of thunder issue from my mouth.

BURGUNDY (greatly moved, looks at her with emotion and astonishment).

How is it with me? Doth some heavenly power Thus strangely stir my spirit's inmost depths?

This pure, this gentle creature cannot lie!

No, if enchantment blinds me, 'tis from heaven.

My spirit tells me she is sent from G.o.d.

JOHANNA.

Oh, he is moved! I have not prayed in vain, Wrath's thunder-cloud dissolves in gentle tears, And leaves his brow, while mercy's golden beams Break from his eyes and gently promise peace.

Away with arms, now clasp him to your hearts, He weeps--he's conquered, he is ours once more!

[Her sword and banner fall; she hastens to him with outstretched arms, and embraces him in great agitation.

LA HIRE and DUNOIS throw down their swords, and hasten also to embrace him.

ACT III.

Residence of the KING at Chalons on the Marne.

SCENE I.

DUNOIS, LA HIRE.

DUNOIS.

We have been true heart-friends, brothers in arms, Still have we battled in a common cause, And held together amid toil and death.

Let not the love of woman rend the bond Which hath resisted every stroke of fate.

LA HIRE.

Hear me, my prince!

DUNOIS.

You love the wondrous maid, And well I know the purpose of your heart.

You think without delay to seek the king, And to entreat him to bestow on you Her hand in marriage. Of your bravery The well-earned guerdon he cannot refuse But know,--ere I behold her in the arms Of any other----

LA HIRE.

Listen to me, prince!

DUNOIS.

'Tis not the fleeting pa.s.sion of the eye Attracts me to her. My unconquered sense Had set at naught the fiery shafts of love Till I beheld this wondrous maiden, sent By a divine appointment to become The savior of this kingdom, and my wife; And on the instant in my heart I vowed A sacred oath, to bear her home, my bride.

For she alone who is endowed with strength Can be the strong man's friend. This glowing heart Longs to repose upon a kindred breast, Which can sustain and comprehend its strength.

LA HIRE.

How dare I venture, prince, my poor deserts To measure with your name's heroic fame!

When Count Dunois appeareth in the lists, Each humbler suitor must forsake the field; Still it doth ill become a shepherd maid To stand as consort by your princely side.

The royal current in your veins would scorn To mix with blood of baser quality.

DUNOIS.

She, like myself, is holy Nature's child, A child divine--hence we by birth are equal.

She bring dishonor on a prince's hand, Who is the holy angel's bride, whose head Is by a heavenly glory circled round, Whose radiance far outshineth earthly crowns, Who seeth lying far beneath her feet All that is greatest, highest of this earth!

For thrones on thrones, ascending to the stars, Would fail to reach the height where she abides In angel majesty!

LA HIRE.

Our monarch must decide.

DUNOIS.

Not so! she must Decide! Free hath she made this realm of France, And she herself must freely give her heart.

LA HIRE.

Here comes the king!

SCENE II.

CHARLES, AGNES, SOREL, DUCHATEL, and CHATILLON.

The same.

CHARLES (to CHATILLON).

He comes! My t.i.tle he will recognize, And do me homage as his sovereign liege?

CHATILLON.

Here, in his royal town of Chalons, sire, The duke, my master, will fall down before thee.

He did command me, as my lord and king, To give thee greeting. He'll be here anon.

SOREL.

He comes! Hail beauteous and auspicious day, Which bringeth joy, and peace, and reconcilement!

CHATILLON.

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The Maid of Orleans: A Tragedy Part 18 summary

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