And, leaving in battle no blot on his name,
Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame.
Joan of Arc, in Rheims.-MRS. HEMANS.
THAT was a joyous day in Rheims of old,
When peal on peal of mighty music rolled
Forth from her thronged cathedral; while around,
A multitude, whose billows made no sound,
Chained to a hush of wonder, though elate
With victory, listened at their temple's gate.
And what was done within ?—Within, the light
Through the rich gloom of pictured windows flowing,
Tinged with soft awfulness a stately sight,—
The chivalry of France, their proud heads bowing
In martial vassalage!-while, midst that ring,
And shadowed by ancestral tombs, a king
Received his birthright's crown. For this, the hymn
Swelled out like rushing waters, and the day,
With the sweet censer's misty breath, grew dim,
As through long aisles it floated o'er the array
Of arms and sweeping stoles.
And unapproached, beside the altar-stone,
With the white banner, forth, like sunshine, streaming,
And the gold helm, through clouds of fragrance gleaming,
Silent and radiant stood ?—The helm was raised,
And the fair face revealed, that upward gazed,
Intensely worshipping,—a still, clear face,
Youthful, but brightly solemn Woman's cheek
And brow were there, in deep devotion meek,
Yet glorified with inspiration's trace
On its pure paleness; while, enthroned above,
The pictured Virgin, with her smile of love,
Seemed bending o'er her votaress. That slight form!
Was that the leader through the battle storm?
Had the soft light, in that adoring eye,
Guided the warrior where the swords flashed high?
'Twas so, even so !—and thou, the shepherd's child,
Joanne, the lowly dreamer of the wild!
Never before, and never since that hour,
Hath woman, mantled with victorious power
Stood forth as thou, beside the shrine, didst stand-
Holy amidst the knighthood of the land!
And, beautiful with joy and with renown,
Lift thy white banner o'er the olden crown,
Ransomed for France by thee!
The rites are done
Now let the dome with trumpet notes be shaken,
And bid the echoes of the tombs awaken,
And come thou forth, that Heaven's rejoicing sun
May give thee welcome from thine own blue skies,
Daughter of victory! A triumphant strain,
A proud, rich stream of warlike melodies,
Gushed through the portals of the antique fane,
And forth she came. Then rose a nation's sound
Oh! what a power to bid the quick heart bound,
The wind bears onward with the stormy cheer,
Man gives to Glory on her high career!
Is there indeed such power ?—far deeper dwells
In one kind household voice, to reach the cells
Whence happiness flows forth! The shouts, that filled
The hollow heaven tempestuously, were stilled
One moment; and, in that brief pause, the tone,
As of a breeze that o'er her home had blown,
Sank on the bright maid's heart.- "Joanne !"-Who spoke
Like those whose childhood with her childhood grew
Under one roof?" Joanne !"-That murmur broke
With sounds of weeping forth!-She turned-she knew
Beside her, marked from all the thousands there,
In the calm beauty of his silver hair,
The stately shepherd; and the youth, whose joy
From his dark eye flashed proudly; and the boy,
The youngest born, that ever loved her best :-
"Father! and ye, my brothers!" On the breast
Of that gray sire she sank, and swiftly back,
Even in an instant, to their native track
Her free thoughts flowed. She saw the pomp no moreThe plumes, the banners: to her cabin-door,
And to the fairy's fountain in the glade,
Where her young sisters by her side had played,
And to her hamlet's chapel, where it rose
Hallowing the forest unto deep repose,
Her spirit turned. The very wood-note, sung
In early spring-time, by the bird, which dwelt
Where o'er her father's roof the beech-leaves hung,
Was in her heart-a music heard and felt,
Winning her back to nature. She unbound
The helm of many battles from her head,
And, with her bright locks bowed to sweep the ground,
Lifting her voice up, wept for joy, and said,—
"Bless me, my father, bless me! and with thee,
To the still cabin and the beechen-tree,
Oh! never did thine eye
Through the green haunts of happy infancy
Wander again, Joanne! Too much of fame
Had shed its radiance on thy peasant-name ;
And, bought alone by gifts beyond all price,—
The trusting heart's repose, the paradise
Of home, with all its loves,-doth fate allow
The crown of glory unto woman's brow.
Raphael's Account of the Creation.—MILTON.
Her ever-during gates-harmonious sound
On golden hinges moving, to let forth
The King of Glory, in his powerful Word
And Spirit, coming to create new worlds.
On heavenly ground they stood; and, from the shore,
They viewed the vast, immeasurable abyss,
Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild,
Up from the bottom turned by furious winds
And surging waves, as mountains to assault
Heaven's height, and with the centre mix the pole.
"Silence, ye troubled waves, and thou deep, peace!"
Said then the omnific Word; "your discord end!"
Nor stayed, but, on the wings of cherubim
Uplifted, in paternal glory rode
Far into Chaos, and the world unborn;
For Chaos heard his voice: him all his train
Followed in bright procession, to behold.
Creation, and the wonders of his might.
Then stayed the fervid wheels, and in his hand
He took the golden compasses, prepared
In God's eternal store, to circumscribe
This universe, and all created things:
One foot he centred, and the other turned
Round through the vast profundity obscure,
And said, "Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,
This be thy just circumference, O world!"
Thus God the heaven created, thus the earth,
Matter unformed and void; darkness profound
Covered the abyss; but on the watery calm
His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread,
And vital virtue infused, and vital warmth
Throughout the fluid mass :-
then founded, then conglobed
Like things to like, the rest to several place
Disparted, and between spun out the air;
And earth, self-balanced, on her centre hung.
"Let there be light," said God; and forthwith light Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure,
Sprung from the deep, and, from her native east,
To journey through the airy gloom began,
Sphered in a radiant cloud; for yet the sun
as not: she in a cloudy tabernacle
Sojourned the while. God saw the light was good
And light from darkness, by the hemisphere,
Divided light the day, and darkness night,
He named. Thus was the first day even and morn:
Nor passed uncelebrated, nor unsung
By the celestial choirs, when orient light
Exhaling first from darkness they beheld;
Birthday of heaven and earth: with joy and shout
The hollow universal orb they filled,
And touched their golden harps, and, hymning, praised
God and his works; Creator him they sung,
Both when first evening was, and when first morn.
Elegy written in a Country Church-yard.-GRAY
THE Curfew tolls the knell of parting day;
The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea;
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower,
The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient, solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
|