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JOAN OF ARC.
Thus, in vain hope to renovate the strengthOf England, spake the Chief. "Victorious friends,So oft victorious in the hard-fought fight,What—shrink ye now dismay'd? have ye forgotThe plains of Azincour, when vanquished France 495Fled with her thousands from your father's arms,Tho' worn with sickness? or your own exploits,When on Verneuil, the flower of chivalryFell by your daring prowess? when the ScotBit the red earth in death, and Narbonne died, 500And the young boaster proud Alencon feltThe weight of English fetters? then we brokeThe plated shield, and cleft the warrior's helm,For ever victors. On Baugenci's wallYe placed the English flag; beneath your force 505Fell Jenville and Gergeau, the neighbouring townsOf well-nigh captur'd Orleans. I omitTo speak of Caen subdued, and vanquish'd Rouen,And that late day when Clermont fled the fight,And the young Bastard of that prison'd Duke. 510

"Shame!

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