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 G.o.d; and ye as soon From the bright wain of heaven might s.n.a.t.c.h 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 G.o.d Betwixt our hostile nations--and the which Ye ventured impiously to overpa.s.s.

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, s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 a.s.signed To this good arm to end my country's woe, Thee sending, sorceress, to the depths of h.e.l.l.

In G.o.d's most gracious hands I leave my fate.

Accursed one! to thine a.s.sistance call The fiends of h.e.l.l! 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 h.e.l.l, 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 n.o.ble hand.

The hangman's axe should thy accursed head Cleave from thy trunk, unfit for such vile use The royal Duke of Burgundy's brave sword.

JOHANNA.

Art thou indeed that n.o.ble duke himself?

KNIGHT (raises his visor).

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

The arts of h.e.l.l 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 h.e.l.lish arts-- To be shield-bearer to a sorceress!

Come one--come all! He only who despairs Of heaven's protection seeks the aid of h.e.l.l.

[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!