the king? Can he supinely see His kingdom's peril and his cities' fall? BERTRAND. The king at Chinon holds his court; he lacks Soldiers to keep the field. Of what avail The leader's courage, and the hero's arm, When pallid fear doth paralyze the host? A sudden panic, as if sent from God, Unnerves the courage of the bravest men. In vain the summons of the king resounds As when the howling of the wolf is heard, The sheep in terror gather side by side, So Frenchmen, careless of their ancient fame, Seek only now the shelter of the towns. One knight alone, I have been told, has brought A feeble company, and joins the king With sixteen banners.     JOHANNA (quickly). What's the hero's name? BERTRAND.    'Tis Baudricour. But much I fear the knight Will not be able to elude the foe, Who track him closely with too numerous hosts. JOHANNA. Where halts the knight? Pray tell me, if you know. BERTRAND. About a one day's march from Vaucouleurs. THIBAUT (to JOHANNA). Why, what is that to thee? Thou dost inquire Concerning matters which become thee not. BERTRAND. The foe being now so strong, and from the king No safety to be hoped, at Vaucouleurs They have with unanimity resolved To yield them to the Duke of Burgundy. Thus we avoid the foreign yoke, and still Continue by our ancient royal line; Ay, to the ancient crown we may fall back Should France and Burgundy be reconciled. JOHANNA (as if inspired). Speak not of treaty! Speak not of surrender! The savior comes, he arms him for the fight. The fortunes of the foe before the walls Of Orleans shall be wrecked! His hour is come, He now is ready for the reaper's hand, And with her sickle will the maid appear, And mow to earth the harvest of his pride. She from the heavens will tear his glory down, Which he had hung aloft among the stars; Despair not! Fly not! for ere yonder corn Assumes its golden hue, or ere the moon Displays her perfect orb, no English horse Shall drink the rolling waters of the Loire. BERTRAND. Alas! no miracle will happen now! JOHANNA. Yes, there shall yet be one—a snow-white dove Shall fly, and with the eagle's boldness, tear The birds of prey which rend her fatherland. She shall o'erthrow this haughty Burgundy, Betrayer of the kingdom; Talbot, too, The hundred-handed, heaven-defying scourge; This Salisbury, who violates our fanes, And all these island robbers shall she drive Before her like a flock of timid lambs. The Lord will be with her, the God of battle; A weak and trembling creature he will choose, And through a tender maid proclaim his power, For he is the Almighty!     

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