Loud o'er Orleans' rampart swells
Music from her steeple bells,
Loud to France the triumph tells;
And the vehement trumpets blending,
With the shouts to heaven ascending,
Hail the maid whom seraphs bless,
Consecrated Championess!
Sound from heart to heart that tingles,
Echoing on without a pause;
While her name like sunshine mingles
With each breath a nation draws.
All the land, with joy on fire,
Blazes round the festal march,
Till they meet the priestly choir
Under Rheims' cathedral arch.
Ancient towers, and cloisters hoary,
Gleam and thrill above the king;
Beauteous rite and blazoned story,
On his crown their lustre fling,
With an old resurgent glory,
Laws and Freedom hallowing.
Therefore, Baron, Count, and Peer,
Priest and Dame no more in fear,
All assemble wondering here;
And a sea of common men,
Feasting all with greedy ken,
Now behold, in pomp appear,
Smiling, not without a tear,
Joan, the dearest sight to see,
First of all the chivalry,
Bearing low her bannered spear.