"Here then," rejoin'd the King, "we have a test From the disbanding throng, meantime to dwell

For while she hoped and trusted through her means | Adjure I that foul spirit to depart
Charles should be reestablish'd in his realm,
From his deluded prey."
She felt rebuked before her.

Through the land

Meantime the King's convoking voice went forth,
And from their palaces and monasteries
The theologians came, men who had grown
In midnight studies gray; Prelates, and Priests,
And Doctors: teachers grave, and with great

names,

Seraphic, Subtile, or Irrefragable,

By their admiring scholars dignified.

They met convened at Chinon, to the place
Of judgment, in St. Katharine's fane assign'd.
The floor with many a monumental stone
Was spread, and brass-ensculptured effigies
Of holy abbots honor'd in their day,

Slowly he spake,
And sprinkled water on the virgin's face.
Indignant at the unworthy charge, the Maid
Felt her cheek flush; but soon, the transient glow
Fading, she answer'd meek.

"Most holy Sires,
Ye reverend Fathers of the Christian church,
Most catholic! I stand before you here
A poor weak woman; of the grace vouchsafed,
How far unworthy, conscious; yet though mean,
Innocent of fraud, and call'd by Heaven to be
Its minister of aid. Strange voices heard,
The dark and shadowing visions of the night,
And feelings which I may not dare to doubt,
These portents make me certain of the God
Within me; He who to these eyes reveal'd

Now to the grave gone down. The branching arms My royal Master, mingled with the crowd
Of many a ponderous pillar met aloft,

And never seen till them. Such evidence

Wreath'd on the roof emboss'd. Through storied Given to my mission thus, and thus confirm'd panes By public attestation, more to say,

Of high arch'd windows came the tinctured light; Methinks, would little boot,· and less become
Pure water in a font beneath reflects
A silly Maid."
The many-color'd rays; around that font
The fathers stand, and there with rites ordain'd
And signs symbolic strew the hallowing salt,
Wherewith the limpid water, consecrate,

So taught the Church, became a spell approved
Against the fiends of Satan's fallen crew;
A licit spell of mightier potency
Than e'er the hell-hags taught in Thessaly;
Or they who sitting on the rifled grave,
By the blue tomb-fire's lurid light dim seen,
Share with the Gouls their banquet.

This perform'd,
The Maid is summon'd. Round the sacred font,
Mark'd with the mystic tonsure and enrobed
In sacred vests, a venerable train,
They stand. The delegated Maid obeys
Their summons. As she came, a blush suffused
Her pallid cheek, such as might well beseem
One mindful still of maiden modesty,
Though to her mission true. Before the train
In reverent silence waiting their sage will,
With half-averted eye she stood composed.
So have I seen a single snow-drop rise
Amid the russet leaves that hide the earth
In early spring, so seen it gently bend
In modest loveliness alone amid
The waste of winter.

"Thou speakest," said the Priest, "Of dark and shadowing visions of the night. Canst thou remember, Maid, what vision first Seem'd more than fancy's shaping? From such tale,

Minutely told with accurate circumstance,
Some judgment might be form'd.”

The Maid replied:
"Amid the mountain valleys I had driven
My father's flock. The eve was drawing on,
When by a sudden storm surprised, I sought
A chapel's neighboring shelter; ruin'd now,
But I remember when its vesper bell

Was heard among the hills, a pleasant sound,
That made me pause upon my homeward road,
Awakening in me comfortable thoughts
Of holiness. The unsparing soldiery
Had sack'd the hamlet near, and none was left
Duly at sacred seasons to attend

St. Agnes' chapel.63 In the desolate pile

I drove my flock, with no irreverent thoughts,
Nor mindless that the place on which I trod
Was holy ground. It was a fearful night!
Devoutly to the virgin Saint I pray'd,

Then heap'd the wither'd leaves which autumn
winds

Had drifted in, and laid me down upon them,

And sure I think I slept. But so it was
That, in the dead of night, Saint Agnes stood
Before mine eyes, such and so beautiful
As when, amid the house of wickedness,

The Power whom with such fervent love she served
Veil'd her with glory.64 And I saw her point
To the moss-grown altar, and the crucifix
Half hid by weeds and grass; — and then I thought
I could have wither'd armies with a look,

For from the present Saint such divine power
I felt infused 'Twas but a dream perhaps.
And yet methought that when a louder peal
Burst o'er the roof, and all was left again
Utterly dark, the bodily sense was clear

And accurate in every circumstance
Of time and place."

Attentive to her words

Thus the Priest answer'd:

"Brethren, ye have heard
The woman's tale. Behoves us now to ask
Whether of holy Church a duteous child
Before our court appears, so not unlike
Heaven might vouchsafe its gracious miracle;
Or misbelieving heretic, whose thoughts,
Erring and vain, easily might stray beyond
All reason, and conceit strange dreams and signs
Impossible. Say, woman, from thy youth
Hast thou, as rightly mother Church demands,
Confess'd at stated times thy secret sins,
And, from the priestly power conferr'd by Heaven,
Sought absolution?"

"Father," she replied,

"The forms of worship in mine earlier years Waked my young mind to artificial awe,

The Doctors stood astonish'd, and some while
They listen'd still in wonder. But at length
A Monk replied,

"Woman, thou seem'st to scorn
The ordinances of our holy Church;
And, if I rightly understand thy words,
Nature, thou say'st, taught thee in solitude
Thy feelings of religion, and that now
Masses and absolution and the use

Of the holy wafer, are to thee unknown.
But how could Nature teach thee true religion,
Deprived of these? Nature doth lead to sin,
But 'tis the Priest alone can teach remorse,
Can bid St. Peter ope the gates of Heaven,
And from the penal fires of purgatory

Set the soul free. Could Nature teach thee this?
Or tell thee that St. Peter holds the keys,
And that his successor's unbounded power
Extends o'er either world? Although thy life
Of sin were free, if of this holy truth

And made me fear my GoD. Warm with the glow Ignorant, thy soul in liquid flames must rue

Of health and exercise, whene'er I pass'd
The threshold of the house of prayer, I felt
A cold damp chill me; I beheld the tapers
That with a pale and feeble glimmering
Dimm'd the noon-light; I heard the solemn mass,
And with strange feelings and mysterious dread
Telling my beads, gave to the mystic prayers
Devoutest meaning. Often when I saw

Its error."

Went round.
Was silent.

Thus he spake; applauding looks
Nor dubious to reply the Maid

"Fathers of the holy Church,

If on these points abstruse a simple maid
Like me should err, impute not you the crime
To self-will'd reason, vaunting its own strength

The pictured flames writhe round a penanced soul, Above eternal wisdom. True it is
I knelt in fear before the Crucifix,

And wept and pray'd, and trembled, and adored
A GoD of Terrors. But in riper years,
When as my soul grew strong in solitude,
I saw the eternal energy pervade

The boundless range of nature, with the sun
Pour life and radiance from his flamy path,
And on the lowliest floweret of the field
The kindly dew-drops shed. And then I felt
That He who form'd this goodly frame of things
Must needs be good, and with a FATHER's name
I call'd on HIM, and from my burden'd heart
Pour'd out the yearnings of unmingled love.
Methinks it is not strange then, that I fled
The house of prayer, and made the lonely grove
My temple, at the foot of some old oak
Watching the little tribes that had their world
Within its mossy bark; or laid me down
Beside the rivulet whose murmuring
Was silence to my soul, and mark'd the swarm
Whose light-edged shadows on the bedded sand
Mirror'd their mazy sports, - the insect hum,
The flow of waters, and the song of birds
Making a holy music to mine ear:

Oh! was it strange, if for such scenes as these,
Such deep devoutness, such intense delight
Of quiet adoration, I forsook

The house of worship? strange that when I felt
How GOD had made my spirit quick to feel
And love whate'er was beautiful and good,
And from aught evil and deform'd to shrink
Even as with instinct; - father! was it strange
That in my heart I had no thought of sin,
And did not need forgiveness? "'

As she spake

That for long time I have not heard the sound
Of mass high-chanted, nor with trembling lips
Partook the holy wafer: yet the birds
Who to the matin ray prelusive pour'd
Their joyous song, methought did warble forth
Sweeter thanksgiving to Religion's ear
In their wild melody of happiness,
Than ever rung along the high-arch'd roofs
Of man: - yet never from the bending vine
Pluck'd I its ripen'd clusters thanklessly,
Or of that God unmindful, who bestow'd
The bloodless banquet. Ye have told me, Sirs,
That Nature only teaches man to sin!

If it be sin to seek the wounded lamb,
To bind its wounds, and bathe them with my tears,
This is what Nature taught! No, Fathers, no!
It is not Nature that doth lead to sin:
Nature is all benevolence, all love,
All beauty! In the greenwood's quiet shade
There is no vice that to the indignant cheek
Bids the red current rush; no misery there;
No wretched mother, who with pallid face
And famine-fallen hangs o'er her hungry babes,
With such a look, so wan, so woe-begone,
As shall one day, with damning eloquence,
Against the oppressor plead! Nature teach sin!
Oh blasphemy against the Holy One,
Who made us in the image of Himself,
Who made us all for happiness and love,
Infinite happiness, infinite love,
Partakers of his own eternity."

Solemn and slow the reverend Priest replied, "Much, woman, do I doubt that all-wise Heaven Would thus vouchsafe its gracious miracles

A song of other days. Sudden they heard The horn's loud blast. "This is no time for cares; Feast ye the messenger without!" cried Charles, well!" Enough hath of the wearying day been given To the public weal.”

On one foredoom'd to misery; for so doom'd
Is that deluded one, who, of the mass
Unheeding, and the Church's saving power,
Deems Nature sinless. Therefore, mark me
Brethren, 1 would propose this woman try
The holy ordeal. Let her, bound and search'd,
Lest haply in her clothes should be conceal'd
Some holy relic so profaned, be cast

In some deep pond; there if she float, no doubt
The fiend upholds; but if at once she sink,
It is a sign that Providence displays

Her free from witchcraft. This done, let her walk
Blindfold and bare o'er ploughshares heated red,
And o'er these past, her naked arm immerse
In scalding water. If from these she come
Unhurt, to holy father of the church,
Most blessed Pope, we then refer the cause
For judgment: and this Chief, the Son of Orleans,
Who comes to vouch the royal person known
By her miraculous power, shall pass with her
The sacred trial.”

"Grace of God!" exclaim'd
The astonish'd Bastard; " plunge me in the pool,
O'er red-hot ploughshares make me skip to please
Your dotard fancies! Fathers of the church,
Where is your gravity? what! elder-like
Would ye this fairer than Susannah eye?
Ye call for ordeals; and I too demand
The noblest ordeal, on the English host
By victory to approve her mission sent
From favoring Heaven. To the Pope refer
For judgment! Know ye not that France even now
Stands tottering on destruction!"

Starting then
With a wild look, the mission'd Maid exclaim'd,
"The sword of God is here! the grave shall speak
To manifest me!"

Even as she spake,

A pale blue flame rose from the trophied tomb
Beside her; and within that house of death
A sound of arms was heard, as if below

A warrior, buried in his armor, stirr'd.

Obedient to the King
The guard invites the way-worn messenger.
Nay, I will see the monarch," he replied,
"And he must hear my tidings; duty-urged,
I have for many a long league hasten'd on,
Not thus to be repell'd." Then with strong arm
Removing him who barr'd his onward way,
The hall he enter'd.

And with the spirit that becomes a King
Responsive to his people's loyalty,
Bring succor to the brave who in thy cause
Abide the extremity of war."
He said,

And from the hall departing, in amaze
At his audacious bearing left the court.
The King exclaim'd, "But little need to send
Quick succor to this gallant garrison,
If to the English half so firm a front
They bear in battle!"

"In the field, my liege,"
Dunois replied, "yon Knight hath serv'd thee well.
Him have I seen the foremost of the fight,
Wielding so manfully his battle-axe,
That wheresoe'er he turn'd, the affrighted foe
Let fall their palsied arms with powerless stroke,
Desperate of safety. I do marvel much
That he is here: Orleans must be hard press'd
To send the bravest of her garrison
On such commission."

Swift the Maid exclaim'd, "I tell thee, Chief, that there the English wolves Shall never raise their yells of victory!

“Hear ye!" the Damsel cried; “these are the The will of God defends those fated walls,

THE feast was spread, the sparkling bowl went Leading the long procession. Next, as one round,

And in the assembled court the minstrel harp'd

Suppliant for mercy to the King of kings,
And grateful for the benefits of Heaven,