But now, when about to perform what at my age may almost be called the testamentary task of revising, in all likelihood for the last time, those works by which it was my youthful ambition "to be for ever known," and part whereof I dare believe has been "so written to aftertimes as they should not willingly let it die," it appeared proper that this poem through which the author had been first made known to the public, two-and-forty years ago, should lead the way; and the thought that it was once more to pass through the press under my own inspection, induced a feeling in some respects resembling that with which it had been first delivered to the printer,.. and yet how different! For not in hope and ardour, nor with the impossible intention of rendering it what it might have been had it been planned and executed in middle life, did I resolve to correct it once more throughout; but for the purpose of making it more consistent with itself in diction, and less inconsistent in other things with the well-weighed opinions of my maturer years. The faults of effort, which may generally be regarded as hopeful indications in a juvenile writer, have been mostly left as they were. The faults of language which remained from the first edition have been removed, so that in this respect the whole is sufficiently in keeping. And for those which expressed the political prejudices of a young man who had too little knowledge to suspect his own ignorance, they have either been expunged, or altered, or such substitutions have been made for them as harmonize with the pervading spirit of the poem, and are nevertheless in accord with those opinions which the author has maintained for thirty years through good and evil report, in the maturity

1 "Lewes duke of Orleance murthered in Paris, by Jhon duke of Burgoyne, was owner of the castle of Concy, on the frontiers of Fraunce toward Arthoys, whereof he made constable the lord of Cauny, a man not so wise as his wife was faire, and yet she was not so faire, but she was as well beloved of the duke of Orleance, as of her husband. Betwene the duke and her husband (I cannot tell who was father), she conceived a child, and brought furthe a prety boye called Jhon, whiche child beying of the age of one yere, the duke deceased, and not long after the mother and the lord of Cawny ended their lives. The next of kynne to the lord Cawny chalenged the inheritaunce, which was worth foure thousande crounes a yere, alledgyng that the boye was a bastard: and the kynred of the mother's side, for to save her honesty, it plainly denied. In conclusion, this matter was in contencion before the presidentes of the parliament of Paris, and there hang in controversie till the child came to the age of eight years old. At whiche tyme it was demanded of hym openly whose sonne he was; his frendes of his mother's side advertised hym to require a day, to be advised of so great an answer, whiche he asked, and to hym it was granted. In the mean season, his said frendes persuaded him to claime his inheritance as sonne to the lorde of Cawny, whiche was an bonorable livyng, and an auncient patrimony, affirming that if he said contrary, he not only slaundered his mother, shared hymself, and stained his bloud, but also should have no living, nor any thing to take to. The scholemaster thinkyng that his disciple had well learned his lesson, and would reherse it according to his instruccion, brought hym before the judges at the daie assigned, and when the question was repeted to hym again, he boldly answered, "My harte geveth me, and my tonge telleth me, that I am the sonne of

heart.

Keswick, August 30. 1837.

ΤΟ

EDITH SOUTHEY.

EDITH! I brought thee late a humble gift,
The songs of earlier youth; it was a wreath
With many an unripe blossom garlanded
And many a weed, yet mingled with some flowers
Which will not wither. Dearest! now I bring
A worthier offering; thou wilt prize it well,
For well thou know'st amid what painful cares
My solace was in this: and though to me
There is no music in the hollowness
Of common praise, yet well content am I
Now to look back upon my youth's green prime,
Nor idly, nor unprofitably past,
Imping in such adventurous essay
The wing, and strengthening it for steadier flight.
Burton, near Christ Church, 1797.

JOAN OF ARC.

THE FIRST BOOK.

THERE was high feasting held at Vaucouleur,
For old Sir Robert had a famous guest,
The Bastard Orleans; and the festive hours,

the noble duke of Orleaunce, more glad to be his bastarde, with a meane livyng, than the lawful sonne of that coward cuckolde Cawny, with his four thousand crownes." The judges much marveiled at his bolde answere, and his mother's cosyns detested him for shamyng of his mother, and his father's supposed kinne rejoysed in gaining the patrimony and possessions. Charles duke of Orleaunce heryng of this judgment, took hymn into his family, and gave hym greate offices and fees, which he well deserved, for (during his captivitie) he defended his landes, expuised the Englishmen, and in conclusion, procured his deliverance. - Hall, ff. 104.

There can be no doubt that Shakespeare had this anecdote in his mind when he wrote the first scene wherein the bastard Falconbridge is introduced.

When the duke of Orleans was so villainously assassinated by order of the duke of Burgundy, the murder was thought at first to have been perpetrated by Sir Aubert de Cauny, says Monstrellet (Johnes's translation, vol. i. p. 198.), from the great hatred he bore the duke for having carried off his wife; but the truth was soon known who were the guilty persons, and that Sir Aubert was perfectly innocent of the crime. Marietta d'Enguien was the name of the adulteress.

"On rapporte que la duchesse d'Orléans, Valentine de Milan, princesse célébré par son esprit et par son courage, ayant à la nouvelle de la morte sanglante de son époux, rassemblé toute sa maison et les principaux seigneurs de son parti, leur addressa ces paroles: Qui de vous marchera le premier pour venger la mort du frère de son Roy? Frappé de terreur, chacun gardait un morne silence. Indigné de voir que personne ne répondit à ce noble appel, le petit Jean d'Orléans (Dunois), alors ágé de sex ans et demi, s'avança tout à coup au milieu de l'assemblée, et s'écria

Cheer'd with the Trobador's sweet minstrelsy,1
Pass'd gaily at his hospitable board.
But not to share the hospitable board
And hear sweet minstrelsy, Dunois had sought
Sir Robert's hall; he came to rouse Lorraine,
And glean what force the wasting war had left
For one last effort. Little had the war
Left in Lorraine, but age, and youth unripe
For slaughter yet, and widows, and young maids
Of widow'd loves. And now with his great guest
The Lord of Vaucouleur sat communing

On what might profit France, and found no hope,
Despairing of their country, when he heard
An old man and a maid awaited him

In the castle-hall. He knew the old man well,
His vassal Claude; and at his bidding Claude
Approach'd, and after meet obeisance made,
Bespake Sir Robert.

"Good my Lord, I come With a strange tale; I pray you pardon me If it should seem impertinent, and like

d'une voix animée: Ce sera moy, madame, et je me monstreray digne d'estre son fils.' Depuis ce moment, Valentine oubliant la naissance illégitime de ce jeune prince, avait conçu pour lui une affection vraiment maternelle. On lui avait entendu dire au lit de la mort, et par une espece de preséntiment de la grandeur future de ce héros, Qu'il luy avoit esté emblé, et qu'il n'y avoit nul de ses enfans qui fust si bien taillé à venger la mort de son père.' Cette ardeur de vengeance l'entraîna même d'abord trop loin, et c'est à peu près l'unique reproche qu'on puisse faire à la jeunesse de ce guerrier. Il se vanta quelquefois, dans la première moitié de sa vie d'avoir immolé de sa main dix mille Bourguignons aux mânes de son père.” — Le Brun de Charmettes, T. i. 99. Lorraine, according to Chaucer, was famous for its singers.

There mightest thou se these flutours,
Minstrallis and eke jogelours,

That wel to singin did ther paine;

Some songin songis of Loraine,

For in Loraine ther notis be

Full swetir than in this contre.

Romaunt of the Rose.

No mention is made of the Lorraine songs in the corresponding lines of the original.

Là estoient herpeurs, fleuteurs,

Et de moult d'instrumens jongleurs ;
Les uns disoient chansons faictes,
Les autres nottes nouvellettes.

v. 770-773.

2 The following account of Joan of Arc is extracted from a history of the siege of Orleans, "prise de mot à mot, sans aucun changement de langage, d'un vieil exemplaire escrit a la main en parchemin, et trouvé en la maison de la dicte ville d'Orleans."-Troyes, 1621.

"Or en ce temps avoit une jeunne fille au pais de Lorraine, aagee de dix-huict ans ou environ, nommee Janne, natifue d'un paroisse nomme Dompre, fille d'un Laboureur nomme Jacques Tart; qui jamais n'avoit fait autre chose que garder les bestes aux champs, a la quelle, ainsi qu'elle disoit, avoit estè revelè que Dieu vouloit qu'elle allast devers le Roi Charles septiesme, pour luy aider et le conseiller a recouvrer son royaume et ses villes et places que les Anglois avoient conquises en ses pays. La quelle revelation elle n'osa dire ses pere et mere, pource qu'elle sçavoit bien que jamais n'eussent consenty qu'elle y fust allee; et le persuada tant qu'il la mena devers un gentelhomme nomme Messire Robert de Baudricourt, qui pour lors estoit Cappitaine de la ville ou

An old man's weakness. But, in truth, this Maid
Hath with such boding thoughts impress'd my heart,
I think I could not longer sleep in peace
Gainsaying what she sought. She saith that God
Bids her go drive the Englishmen from France!
Her parents mock at her, and call her crazed,
And father Regnier says she is possess'd; ..
But I, who know that never thought of ill
Found entrance in her heart,.. for, good my Lord,
From her first birth-day she hath been to me
As mine own child,.. and I am an old man,
Who have seen many moon-struck in my time,
And some who were by evil Spirits vex'd,..
I, Sirs, do think that there is more in this.
And who can tell but, in these perilous times,
It may please God,... but hear the Maid yourselves,
For if, as I believe, this is of Heaven,
My silly speech doth wrong it."

While he spake, Curious they mark'd the Damsel. She appear'd Of eighteen years 3; there was no bloom of youth

chasteau de Vaucouleur, qui est assez prochain de la: auquel elle pria tres instanment qu'il la fist mener devers le Roy de France, en leur disant qu'il estoit tres necessaire qu'elle parlast a luy pour le bien de son royaume, et que elle luy feroit grand secours et aide a recouvrer son dict royaume, et que Dieu le vouloit ainsi, et que il luy avoit esté revelé par plusieurs fois. Des quelles parolles il ne faissoit que rire et se mocquer et la reputoit incensee: toutes fois elle persevera tant et si longuement qu'il luy bailla un gentelhomme, Dommè Ville Robert, et quelque nombre de gens, les quels la menerent devers le Roy que pour lors estoit a Chinon."

3 This agrees with the account of her age given by Holinshed, who calls her "a young wench of an eighteene years old; of favour was she counted likesome, of person stronglie made and manlie, of courage great, hardie, and stout withall; an understander of counsels though she were not at them, greet semblance of chastitie, both of bodie and behaviour, the name of Jesus in hir mouth about all her businesses, humble, obedient, and fasting divers days in the weeke.” Holinshed, 600.

De Serres speaks thus of her, "A young maiden named Joan of Arc, born in a village upon the Marches of Barre called Domremy, neere to Vaucouleurs, of the age of eighteene or twenty years, issued from base parents, her father was named James of Arc, and her mother Isabel, poore countrie folkes, who had brought her up to keep their cattell. She said with great boldnesse that she had a revelation how to succour the king, how he might be able to chase the English from Orleance, and after that to cause the king to be crowned at Rheims, and to put him fully and wholly in possession of his realme.

"After she had delivered this to her father, mother, and their neighbours, she presumed to go to the lord of Baudricourt, provost of Vaucoleurs; she boldly delivered unto him, after an extraordinary manner, all these great mysteries, as much wished for of all men as not hoped for: especially coming from the mouth of a poore country maide, whom they might with more reason beleeve to be possessed of some melancholy humour, than divinely inspired; being the instrument of so many excellent remedies, in so desperat a season, after the vaine striving of so great and famous personages. At the first he mocked and reproved her, but having heard her with more patience, and judging by her temperate discourse and modest countenance that she spoke not idely, in the end he resolves to present her to the king for his discharge. So she arrives at Chinon the sixt day of May, attired like a man.

"She had a modest countenance, sweet, civill, and resolute, her discourse was temperate, reasonable, and retired,

And now along the mountain's winding path
Upward they journey'd slow, and now they paused
And gazed where o'er the plain the stately towers
Of Vaucouleur arose, in distance seen,
Dark and distinct; below its castled height,
Through fair and fertile pastures, the deep Meuse
Roll'd glittering on. Domremi's cottages
Gleam'd in the sun hard by, white cottages,
That in the evening traveller's weary mind
Had waken'd thoughts of comfort and of home,
Making him yearn for rest. But on one spot,
One little spot, the Virgin's eye was fix'd,
Her native Arc; embower'd the hamlet lay
Upon the forest edge, whose ancient woods,
With all their infinite varieties,

Now form'd a mass of shade. The distant plain
Rose on the horizon rich with pleasant groves,
And vineyards in the greenest hue of spring,
And streams now hidden on their winding way,
Now issuing forth in light.

The Maiden gazed
Till all grew dim upon her dizzy eye.
"Oh what a blessed world were this!" she cried,
"But that the great and honourable men
Have seized the earth, and of the heritage
Which God, the Sire of all, to all had given,
Disherited their brethren! Happy those
Who in the after-days shall live when Time
Hath spoken, and the multitude of years
Taught wisdom to mankind!1.. Unhappy France !
Fiercer than evening wolves thy bitter foes
Rush o'er the land, and desolate, and kill; 2
Long has the widow's and the orphan's groan
Accused Heaven's justice; - but the hour is come!
God hath inclined his ear, hath heard the voice
Of mourning, and his anger is gone forth."

Then said the Son of Orleans, "Holy Maid!
Fain would I know, if blameless I may seek
Such knowledge, how the heavenly call was heard
First in thy waken'd soul; nor deem in me
Aught idly curious, if of thy past life
I ask the story. In the hour of age,
If haply I survive to see this realm
Deliver'd, precious then will be the thought
That I have known the delegated Maid,

And heard from her the wondrous ways of Heaven."

"A simple tale," the mission'd Maid replied; "Yet may it well employ the journeying hour, And pleasant is the memory of the past.

"See'st thou, Sir Chief, where yonder forest skirts
The Meuse, that in its winding mazes shows,
As on the farther bank, the distant towers
Of Vaucouleur? there in the hamlet Arc
My father's dwelling stands ; a lowly hut,
Yet nought of needful comfort did it lack,
For in Lorraine there lived no kinder Lord
Than old Sir Robert, and my father Jaques
In flocks and herds was rich; a toiling man,
Intent on worldly gains, one in whose heart
Affection had no root. I never knew

A parent's love; for harsh my mother was,
And deem'd the care which infancy demands
Irksome, and ill-repaid. Severe they were,
And would have made me fear them; but my soul
Possess'd the germ of inborn fortitude,
And stubbornly I bore unkind rebuke
And angry chastisement. Yet was the voice
That spake in tones of tenderness most sweet
To my young heart; how have I felt it leap
With transport, when my Uncle Claude approach'd!

Days should speak, and multitude of years should teach wisdom." - Job.

2 While the English and French contend for dominion, sovereignty and life itself, men's goods in France were violently taken by the license of war, churches spoiled, men every where murthered or wounded, others put to death or tortured, matrons ravished, maids forcibly drawn from out their parents' arms to be deflowered; towns daily taken, daily spoyled, daily defaced, the riches of the inhabitants carried whither the conquerors think good; houses and villages round about set on fire, no kind of cruelty is left unpractised upon the miserable French, omitting many hundred kind of other calamities which all at once oppressed them. Add hereunto that the commonwealth, being destitute of the help of laws (which for the most part are mute in times of war and mutiny), | floateth up and down without any anchorage at right or justice. Neither was England herself void of these mischiefs, who every day heard the news of her valiant children's funerals, slain in perpetual skirmishes and bickerings, her general wealth continually ebbed and wained, so that the evils seemed almost equal, and the whole western world echoed the groans and sighs of either nation's quarrels, being the common argument of speech and compassion through Christendom.". Speed.

3 When Montaigne saw it in 1580, the front of the house was covered with paintings representing the history of the Maid. He says, "Ses descendans furent annoblis par faveur

du Roi, et nous monstrarent les armes que le Roi leur donna,

et deux fleurs de lis d'or au coté de ladite espée; de quoy un receveur de Vaucouleur donna un escusson peint à M. de Caselis. Le devant de la maisonette où elle naquit est toute peinte de ses gestes; mais l'aage en a fort corrumpu la peinture. Il y a aussi un abre le long d'une vigne qu'on nomme l'abre de la Pucelle, qui n'a nulle autre chose à remerquer." Voyages de Montaigne, i. p. 17.

"Ce n'etait qu'une maisonette; et cependant elle a subsisté jusqu'à nos jours, grâce au zèle national du maire et des habitans de Domremy, qui pendant les dernières années du gouvernement impérial, voyant qu'on refusait de leur allouer la somme nécessaire pour son entretien, y suppléèrent par une souscription volontaire; tant le respect et la vénération que les vertus inspirent, peuvent quelquefois prolonger la durée des monumens les plus simples et les plus fragiles."Le Brun de Charmeties, T. i. 244.

It appears, however, that whatever might be the respect and veneration of the inhabitants for this illustrious heroine and martyr, they allowed the cottage in which she was born to be villainously desecrated, very soon after their national feeling had been thus praised. The author, whose book was published only in the second year (1817) after the overthrow of the Imperial Government, adds the following note to this passage: "Depuis l'époque où ce passage à été écrit, il paraît que les choses sont fort changées. On lit ce qui suit dans le Narrateur de la Meuse: Les chambres où logèrent cette héroïne et ses parens sont converties en étables; des vils animaux occupent l'emplacement du lit de Jeanne d'Arc, son armoire vermoulue renferme des ustensiles d'écurie.'"

For he would take me on his knee, and tell
Such wondrous tales as childhood loves to hear,
Listening with eager eyes and open lips
Devoutly in attention. Good old man!

Oh if I ever pour'd a prayer to Heaven
Unhallow'd by the grateful thought of him,
Methinks the righteous winds would scatter it!
He was a parent to me, and his home
Was mine, when in advancing years I found
No peace, no comfort in my father's house.
With him I pass'd the pleasant evening hours,
By day I drove my father's flock afield,
And this was happiness.

"Amid these wilds

Often to summer pasture have I driven
The flock; and well I know these woodland wilds,
And every bosom'd vale, and valley stream
Is dear to memory. I have laid me down
Beside yon valley stream, that up the ascent
Scarce sends the sound of waters now, and watch'd
The beck roll glittering to the noon-tide sun,
And listened to its ceaseless murmuring,
Till all was hush'd and tranquil in my soul,
Fill'd with a strange and undefined delight
That passed across the mind like summer clouds
Over the vale at eve! their fleeting hues
The traveller cannot trace with memory's eye,
Yet he remembers well how fair they were,
How beautiful.

"In solitude and peace Here I grew up, amid the loveliest scenes Of unpolluted nature. Sweet it was,

As the white mists of morning roll'd away,
To see the upland's wooded heights appear
Dark in the early dawn, and mark the slope
With gorse-flowers glowing, as the sun illumed
Their golden glory 2 with his deepening light;
Pleasant at noon beside the vocal brook

To lay me down, and watch the floating clouds,
And shape to fancy's wild similitudes
Their ever-varying forms; and oh how sweet!
To drive my flock at evening to the fold,
And hasten to our little hut, and hear
The voice of kindness bid me welcome home.

"Amid the village playmates of my youth Was one whom riper years approved a friend. A gentle maid was my poor Madelon ;

I loved her as a sister, and long time
Her undivided tenderness possess'd,
Until a better and a holier tie

Gave her one nearer friend; and then my heart
Partook her happiness, for never lived

A happier pair than Arnaud and his wife.

"Lorraine was call'd to arms, and with her youth, Went Arnaud to the war. The morn was fair,

1 "People found out a nest of miracles in her education," says old Fuller, "that so lion-like a spirit should be bred among sheep like David."

2 It is said that when Linnæus was in England he was more struck with the splendid appearance of the furze in blossom, than with any other of our native plants. Mrs. Bray's Letters, i. 316.

3 "O Death, how bitter is the remembrance of thee to a man

Bright shone the sun, the birds sung cheerfully,
And all the fields seem'd joyous in the spring;
But to Domremi wretched was that day,
For there was lamentation, and the voice
Of anguish, and the deeper agony

That spake not. Never can my heart forget

The feelings that shot through me, when the horn
Gave its last call, and through the castle-gate
The banner moved, and from the clinging arms
Which hung on them, as for a last embrace,
Sons, brethren, husbands, went.

"More frequent now

Sought I the converse of poor Madelon,
For now she needed Friendship's soothing voice.
All the long summer did she live in hope
Of tidings from the war; and as at eve
She with her mother by the cottage door
Sat in the sunshine, if a traveller
Appear'd at distance coming o'er the brow,
Her eye was on him, and it might be seen
By the flush'd cheek what thoughts were in her heart,
And by the deadly paleness which ensued,
How her heart died within her. So the days

And weeks and months pass'd on; and when the leaves
Fell in the autumn, a most painful hope
That reason own'd not, that with expectation
Did never cheer her as she rose at morn,
Still linger'd in her heart, and still at night
Made disappointment dreadful. Winter came,
But Arnaud never from the war return'd,
He far away had perish'd; and when late
The tidings of his certain death arrived,
Sore with long anguish underneath that blow
She sunk. Then would she sit and think all day
Upon the past, and talk of happiness

That never could return, as though she found
Best solace in the thoughts which minister'd
To sorrow: and she loved to see the sun
Go down, because another day was gone,
And then she might retire to solitude
And wakeful recollections, or perchance
To sleep more wearying far than wakefulness,
Dreams of his safety and return, and starts
Of agony; so neither night nor day
Could she find rest, but pined and pined away.

"DEATH! to the happy thou art terrible;
But how the wretched love to think of thee,
Oh thou true comforter, the friend of all
Who have no friend beside! By the sick bed
Of Madelon I sat, when sure she felt
The hour of her deliverance drawing near;

I saw her eye kindle with heavenly hope,
I had her latest look of earthly love,

I felt her hand's last pressure. . . . Son of Orleans!
I would not wish to live to know that hour,
When I could think upon a dear friend dead,

that liveth at rest in his possessions, unto the man tnat hath nothing to vex him, and that hath prosperity in all things; yea unto him that is yet able to receive meat!

"O Death, acceptable is thy sentence unto the needy, and unto him whose strength faileth, that is now in the last age, and is vexed with all things, and to him that despaireth, and hath lost patience!"— Ecclesiasticus, xli. 1, 2.