Dizzy with their full delight,
All disperse ere comes the night.
Charles and all his train are met,
Revelling in royal hall;
Shield and pennon o'er them set,
Many a doubtful fight recall;
And the thronged and clanging town,
For the rescued land's renown,
Keeps a sudden carnival.
Ask ye, where the while is Joan?
She within the Minster lone,
To the silent altar steals,
And before it trembling kneels;
And amid the shadows dim,
Faithfully she prays to Him
Who his light in dark reveals.
Now again her home she sees,
Domremy with all its trees,
Where the ancient beech is growing,
And the haunted fount is flowing,
And the Meuse with equal sound
Breathes its quiet all around.
Won again by weeping prayer,
Lo! her loved protectors there,
Catherine mild, and Margaret fair.
Over them a light is streaming,
On their gracious foreheads beaming,
Effluence from an orb unseen;
To which Heaven is but a screen;
All our human sight above,
Not beyond our human love;
And from thence she hears a voice
That can make the dead rejoice;
—“Give not way to Pride or Fear,
For the end of all is near!”