The Maid of Orleans (play) Read online

  I may perchance to pity move her by my tears!

  [While he is on the point of approaching her she draws near.

  SCENE VII.

  JOHANNA, MONTGOMERY.

  JOHANNA.

  Prepare to die! A British mother bore thee!

  MONTGOMERY (falls at her feet).

  Fall back, terrific one! Forbear to strike

  An unprotected foe! My sword and shield

  I've flung aside, and supplicating fall

  Defenceless at thy feet. A ransom take!

  Extinguish not the precious light of life!

  With fair possessions crowned, my father dwells

  In Wales' fair land, where among verdant meads

  The winding Severn rolls his silver tide,

  And fifty villages confess his sway.

  With heavy gold he will redeem his son,

  When he shall hear I'm in the camp of France.

  JHANNA.

  Deluded mortal! to destruction doomed!

  Thou'rt fallen in the maiden's hand, from which

  Redemption or deliverance there is none.

  Had adverse fortune given thee a prey

  To the fierce tiger or the crocodile-

  Hadst robbed the lion mother of her brood-

  Compassion thou might'st hope to find and pity;

  But to encounter me is certain death.

  For my dread compact with the spirit realm-

  The stern inviolable-bindeth me,

  To slay each living thing whom battle's God,

  Full charged with doom, delivers to my sword.

  MONTGOMERY.

  Thy speech is fearful, but thy look is mild;

  Not dreadful art thou to contemplate near;

  My heart is drawn towards thy lovely form.

  Oh! by the mildness of thy gentle sex,

  Attend my prayer. Compassionate my youth.

  JOHANNA.

  Name me not woman! Speak not of my sex!

  Like to the bodiless spirits, who know naught

  Of earth's humanities, I own no sex;

  Beneath this vest of steel there beats no heart.

  MONTGOMERY.

  Oh! by love's sacred, all-pervading power,

  To whom all hearts yield homage, I conjure thee.

  At home I left behind a gentle bride,

  Beauteous as thou, and rich in blooming grace:

  Weeping she waiteth her betrothed's return.

  Oh! if thyself dost ever hope to love,

  If in thy love thou hopest to be happy,

  Then ruthless sever not two gentle hearts,

  Together linked in love's most holy bond!

  JOHANNA.

  Thou dost appeal to earthly, unknown gods,

  To whom I yield no homage. Of love's bond,

  By which thou dost conjure me, I know naught

  Nor ever will I know his empty service.

  Defend thy life, for death doth summon thee.

  MONTGOMERY.

  Take pity on my sorrowing parents, whom

  I left at home. Doubtless thou, too, hast left

  Parents, who feel disquietude for thee.

  JOHANNA.

  Unhappy man! thou dost remember me

  How many mothers of this land your arms

  Have rendered childless and disconsolate;

  How many gentle children fatherless;

  How many fair young brides dejected widows!

  Let England's mothers now be taught despair,

  And learn to weep the bitter tear oft shed

  By the bereaved and sorrowing wives of France.

  MONTGOMERY.

  'Tis hard in foreign lands to die unwept.

  JOHANNA.

  Who called you over to this foreign land,

  To waste the blooming culture of our fields,

  To chase the peasant from his household hearth,

  And in our cities' peaceful sanctuary

  To hurl the direful thunderbolt of war?

  In the delusion of your hearts ye thought

  To plunge in servitude the freeborn French,

  And to attach their fair and goodly realm,

  Like a small boat, to your proud English bark!

  Ye fools! The royal arms of France are hung

  Fast by the throne of God; and ye as soon

  From the bright wain of heaven might snatch a star

  As rend a single village from this realm,

  Which shall remain inviolate forever!

  The day of vengeance is at length arrived;

  Not living shall ye measure back the sea,

  The sacred sea-the boundary set by God

  Betwixt our hostile nations-and the which

  Ye ventured impiously to overpass.

  MONTGOMERY (lets go her hands).

  Oh, I must die! I feel the grasp of death!

  JOHANNA.

  Die, friend! Why tremble at the approach of death?

  Of mortals the irrevocable doom?

  Look upon me! I'm born a shepherd maid;

  This hand, accustomed to the peaceful crook,

  Is all unused to wield the sword of death.

  Yet, snatched away from childhood's peaceful haunts,

  From the fond love of father and of sisters,

  Urged by no idle dream of earthly glory,

  But heaven-appointed to achieve your ruin,

  Like a destroying angel I must roam,

  Spreading dire havoc around me, and at length

  Myself must fall a sacrifice to death!

  Never again shall I behold my home!

  Still, many of your people I must slay,

  Still, many widows make, but I at length

  Myself shall perish, and fulfil my doom.

  Now thine fulfil. Arise! resume thy sword,

  And let us fight for the sweet prize of life.

  MONTGOMERY (stands up).

  Now, if thou art a mortal like myself,

  Can weapons wound thee, it may be assigned

  To this good arm to end my country's woe,

  Thee sending, sorceress, to the depths of hell.

  In God's most gracious hands I leave my fate.

  Accursed one! to thine assistance call

  The fiends of hell! Now combat for thy life!

  [He seizes his sword and shield, and rushes upon her;

  martial music is heard in the distance. After a short

  conflict MONTGOMERY falls.

  SCENE VIII.

  JOHANNA (alone).

  To death thy foot did bear thee-fare thee well!

  [She steps away from him and remains absorbed in thought.

  Virgin, thou workest mightily in me!

  My feeble arm thou dost endue with strength,

  And steep'st my woman's heart in cruelty.

  In pity melts the soul and the hand trembles,

  As it did violate some sacred fane,

  To mar the goodly person of the foe.

  Once I did shudder at the polished sheath,

  But when 'tis needed, I'm possessed with strength,

  And as it were itself a thing of life,

  The fatal weapon, in my trembling grasp,

  Self-swayed, inflicteth the unerring stroke.

  SCENE IX.

  A KNIGHT with closed visor, JOHANNA.

  KNIGHT.

  Accursed one! thy hour of death has come!

  Long have I sought thee on the battle-field,

  Fatal delusion! get thee back to hell,

  Whence thou didst issue forth.

  JOHANNA.

  Say, who art thou,

  Whom his bad genius sendeth in my way?

  Princely thy port, no Briton dost thou seem,

  For the Burgundian colors stripe thy shield,

  Before the which my sword inclines its point.

  KNIGHT.

  Vile castaway! Thou all unworthy art

  To fall beneath a prince's noble hand.

  The hangman's axe should thy accurs
ed head

  Cleave from thy trunk, unfit for such vile use

  The royal Duke of Burgundy's brave sword.

  JOHANNA.

  Art thou indeed that noble duke himself?

  KNIGHT (raises his visor).

  I'm he, vile creature, tremble and despair!

  The arts of hell shall not protect thee more.

  Thou hast till now weak dastards overcome;

  Now thou dost meet a man.

  SCENE X.

  DUNOIS and LA HIRE. The same.

  DUNOIS.

  Hold, Burgundy!

  Turn! combat now with men, and not with maids.

  LA HIRE.

  We will defend the holy prophetess;

  First must thy weapon penetrate this breast.

  BURGUNDY.

  I fear not this seducing Circe; no,

  Nor you, whom she hath changed so shamefully!

  Oh, blush, Dunois! and do thou blush, La Hire

  To stoop thy valor to these hellish arts-

  To be shield-bearer to a sorceress!

  Come one-come all! He only who despairs

  Of heaven's protection seeks the aid of hell.

  [They prepare for combat, JOHANNA steps between.

  JOHANNA.

  Forbear!

  BURGUNDY.

  Dost tremble for thy lover? Thus

  Before thine eyes he shall--

  [He makes a thrust at DUNOIS.

  JOHANNA.

  Dunois, forbear!

  Part them, La Hire! no blood of France must flow:

  Not hostile weapons must this strife decide,

  Above the stars 'tis otherwise decreed.

  Fall back! I say. Attend and venerate

  The Spirit which hath seized, which speaks through me!

  DUNOIS.

  Why, maiden, now hold back my upraised arm?

  Why check the just decision of the sword?

  My weapon pants to deal the fatal blow

  Which shall avenge and heal the woes of France.

  [She places herself in the midst and separates the parties.

  JOHANNA.

  Fall back, Dunois! Stand where thou art, La Hire!

  Somewhat I have to say to Burgundy.

  [When all is quiet.

  What wouldst thou, Burgundy? Who is the foe

  Whom eagerly thy murderous glances seek?

  This prince is, like thyself, a son of France,-

  This hero is thy countryman, thy friend;

  I am a daughter of thy fatherland.

  We all, whom thou art eager to destroy,

  Are of thy friends;-our longing arms prepare

  To clasp, our bending knees to honor thee.

  Our sword 'gainst thee is pointless, and that face

  E'en in a hostile helm is dear to us,

  For there we trace the features of our king.

  BURGUNDY.

  What, syren! wilt thou with seducing words

  Allure thy victim? Cunning sorceress,

  Me thou deludest not. Mine ears are closed

  Against thy treacherous words; and vainly dart

  Thy fiery glances 'gainst this mail of proof.

  To arms, Dunois!

  With weapons let us fight, and not with words.

  DUNOIS.

  First words, then weapons, Burgundy! Do words

  With dread inspire thee? 'Tis a coward's fear,

  And the betrayer of an evil cause.

  JOHANNA.

  'Tis not imperious necessity

  Which throws us at thy feet! We do not come

  As suppliants before thee. Look around!

  The English tents are level with the ground,

  And all the field is covered with your slain.

  Hark! the war-trumpets of the French resound;

  God hath decided-ours the victory!

  Our new-culled laurel garland with our friend

  We fain would share. Come, noble 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 hellish arts. Is it the work of hell

  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 hell 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 God.

  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 passion 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