ted 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 of his judgment as well as in the sincerity of his heart.
Keswick, August 30, 1837.
TO 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.
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,
Cheer'd with the Trobador's sweet minstrelsy,
Pass'd gayly 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
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; there was no bloom of youth
Upon her cheek, yet had the loveliest hues
Of health with lesser fascination fix'd
The gazer's eye; for wan the Maiden was.
Of saintly paleness, and there seem'd to dwell
In the strong beauties of her countenance
Something that was not earthly.
"I have heard
Of this your niece's malady," replied
The Lord of Vaucouleur," that she frequents
The loneliest haunts and deepest solitude.
Estranged from human kind and human cares
With loathing like to madness. It were best
To place her with some pious sisterhood.
Who duly, moru and eve, for her soul's health
Soliciting Heaven, may likeliest remedy
The stricken mind, or frenzied or possess'd."
So as Sir Robert ceased, the Maiden cried,
"I am not mad. Possess'd indeed I am!
The hand of God is strong upon my soul.
And I have wrestled vainly with the Lord,
And stubbornly, I fear me. I can save
This country. Sir! I can deliver France!
Yea — I must save the country! — God is in me;
I speak not, think not, feel not of myself.
He knew and sanctified me ere my birth;
He to the nations hath ordained me;
And whither he shall send me, I must go;
And whatso he commands, that I must speak;
And whatso is his will, that I must do;
And I must put away all fear of man.
Lest he in wrath confound me."
At the first
With pity or with scorn Dunois had heard
The Maid inspired; but now he in his heart
Felt that misgiving which precedes belief
