The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 402

Thus she pursued me closely through the streets, Still offering the helm, which I refused.

I marked it well, and saw that it was bright, And fair and worthy of a knightly head; And when in doubt I weighed it in my hand, The strangeness of the incident revolving, The woman disappeared, for suddenly The rushing crowd had carried her away.

And I was left the helmet in my hand.

JOHANNA (attempting eagerly to seize it).

Give me the helmet!

BERTRAND.

Why, what boots it you?

It is not suited to a maiden's head.

JOHANNA (seizing it from him).

Mine is the helmet--it belongs to me!

THIBAUT.

What whim is this?

RAIMOND.

Nay, let her have her way!

This warlike ornament becomes her well, For in her bosom beats a manly heart.

Remember how she once subdued the wolf, The savage monster which destroyed our herds, And filled the neighb'ring shepherds with dismay.

She all alone--the lion-hearted maid Fought with the wolf, and from him s.n.a.t.c.hed the lamb Which he was bearing in his b.l.o.o.d.y jaws.

How brave soe'er the head this helm adorned, It cannot grace a worthier one than hers!

THIBAUT (to BERTRAND).

Relate what new disasters have occurred.

What tidings brought the fugitives?

BERTRAND.

May G.o.d Have pity on our land, and save the king!

In two great battles we have lost the day; Our foes are stationed in the heart of France, Far as the river Loire our lands are theirs-- Now their whole force they have combined, and lay Close siege to Orleans.

THIBAUT.

G.o.d protect the king!

BERTRAND.

Artillery is brought from every side, And as the dusky squadrons of the bees Swarm round the hive upon a summer day, As clouds of locusts from the sultry air Descend and shroud the country round for miles, So doth the cloud of war, o'er Orleans' fields, Pour forth its many-nationed mult.i.tudes, Whose varied speech, in wild confusion blent, With strange and hollow murmurs fill the air.

For Burgundy, the mighty potentate, Conducts his motley host; the Hennegarians, The men of Liege and of Luxemburg, The people of Namur, and those who dwell In fair Brabant; the wealthy men of Ghent, Who boast their velvets, and their costly silks; The Zealanders, whose cleanly towns appear Emerging from the ocean; Hollanders Who milk the lowing herds; men from Utrecht, And even from West Friesland's distant realm, Who look towards the ice-pole--all combine, Beneath the banner of the powerful duke, Together to accomplish Orleans' fall.

THIBAUT.

Oh, the unblest, the lamentable strife, Which turns the arms of France against itself!

BERTRAND.

E'en she, the mother-queen, proud Isabel Bavaria's haughty princess--may be seen, Arrayed in armor, riding through the camp; With poisonous words of irony she fires The hostile troops to fury 'gainst her son, Whom she hath clasped to her maternal breast.

THIBAUT.

A curse upon her, and may G.o.d prepare For her a death like haughty Jezebel's!

BERTRAND.

The fearful Salisbury conducts the siege, The town-destroyer; with him Lionel, The brother of the lion; Talbot, too, Who, with his murd'rous weapon, moweth down The people in the battle: they have sworn, With ruthless insolence to doom to shame The hapless maidens, and to sacrifice All who the sword have wielded, with the sword.

Four lofty watch-towers, to o'ertop the town, They have upreared; Earl Salisbury from on high Casteth abroad his cruel, murd'rous glance, And marks the rapid wanderers in the streets.

Thousands of cannon-b.a.l.l.s, of pond'rous weight, Are hurled into the city. Churches lie In ruined heaps, and Notre Dame's royal tower Begins at length to bow its lofty head.

They also have formed powder-vaults below, And thus, above a subterranean h.e.l.l, The timid city every hour expects, 'Midst crashing thunder, to break forth in flames.

[JOHANNA listens with close attention, and places the helmet on her head.

THIBAUT.

But where were then our heroes? Where the swords Of Saintrailles, and La Hire, and brave Dunois, Of France the bulwark, that the haughty foe With such impetuous force thus onward rushed?

Where is the king? Can he supinely see His kingdom's peril and his cities' fall?

BERTRAND.

The king at Chinon holds his court; he lacks Soldiers to keep the field. Of what avail The leader's courage, and the hero's arm, When pallid fear doth paralyze the host?

A sudden panic, as if sent from G.o.d, Unnerves the courage of the bravest men.

In vain the summons of the king resounds As when the howling of the wolf is heard, The sheep in terror gather side by side, So Frenchmen, careless of their ancient fame, Seek only now the shelter of the towns.

One knight alone, I have been told, has brought A feeble company, and joins the king With sixteen banners.

JOHANNA (quickly).

What's the hero's name?

BERTRAND.

'Tis Baudricour. But much I fear the knight Will not be able to elude the foe, Who track him closely with too numerous hosts.

JOHANNA.

Where halts the knight? Pray tell me, if you know.

BERTRAND.

About a one day's march from Vaucouleurs.

THIBAUT (to JOHANNA).

Why, what is that to thee? Thou dost inquire Concerning matters which become thee not.

BERTRAND.

The foe being now so strong, and from the king No safety to be hoped, at Vaucouleurs They have with unanimity resolved To yield them to the Duke of Burgundy.

Thus we avoid the foreign yoke, and still Continue by our ancient royal line; Ay, to the ancient crown we may fall back Should France and Burgundy be reconciled.

JOHANNA (as if inspired).

Speak not of treaty! Speak not of surrender!

The savior comes, he arms him for the fight.

The fortunes of the foe before the walls Of Orleans shall be wrecked! His hour is come, He now is ready for the reaper's hand, And with her sickle will the maid appear, And mow to earth the harvest of his pride.

She from the heavens will tear his glory down, Which he had hung aloft among the stars; Despair not! Fly not! for ere yonder corn a.s.sumes its golden hue, or ere the moon Displays her perfect orb, no English horse Shall drink the rolling waters of the Loire.

BERTRAND.

Alas! no miracle will happen now!

JOHANNA.

Yes, there shall yet be one--a snow-white dove Shall fly, and with the eagle's boldness, tear The birds of prey which rend her fatherland.

She shall o'erthrow this haughty Burgundy, Betrayer of the kingdom; Talbot, too, The hundred-handed, heaven-defying scourge; This Salisbury, who violates our fanes, And all these island robbers shall she drive Before her like a flock of timid lambs.

The Lord will be with her, the G.o.d of battle; A weak and trembling creature he will choose, And through a tender maid proclaim his power, For he is the Almighty!

THIBAULT.