Joan of Arc: A Play in Five Acts

								

Had led me to the spot.


AUS.                    'Tis here.


ABB.                             Alas!
There then at rest lies he, the brave, the young,
And oh! for kingly shame, for kingly woe,
The murdered, the betrayed.


AUS.                          Compose thyself.
Here on this mutilated effigy,
(Stern lesson of rebuke for haughty pride,)
By warrior felt, rest thee.


ABB.                      What sound was that?


AUS. Nought save the wind, which tired of being pent
Within these cloistered aisles, and heavy made
By penitential sighs, doth sullen moan
For liberty, and free access to heaven.


ABB. 'Tis hushed, whate'er it was. Now listen, Austin:--
When 'gainst the legions of the Saracen
The hearts of knights with holy ardour burned,
And kings and nobles left their native land,
The young Montalbert, fav'rite of his prince,
Joined those heroic ranks.


AUS.                        Montalbert! he
Of whom tradition speaks a royal damsel
Viewed with eyes of love?


ABB.                       Alas! here secretly
Their marriage vows were pledged.


AUS.                             He fell in fight.


ABB. Oh! would that it were so. Come nigher, Austin.
That marriage was discovered to the monarch,
And pride, primeval sin of men and angels,
Betrayed the kingly mind, and he--


AUS.                                    Why pause?


ABB. It is a dreadful thing, my son, to drag
Forgotten crime to light, and turn aside
The veil which time hath drawn o'er guilt in pity.
Montalbert secretly was sent to France
On private embassy.--He sought his bride!
His steps were tracked--beneath these walls he fell,
Here breathed his parting groan.


AUS.                           Hark! midnight strikes!


ABB. Beneath this stone his cold remains were laid,
In stately armour clad, as he desired,
That he might lie, as warrior ought to lie,
Prepared at once to start again to life,
When the last trump shall sound. All save his sword,
All in this grave, name, honours, wrongs, revenge,
Were buried deep.


AUS.                Why not his sword?


ABB.                                The screen
Which darkens life ofttimes unveils futurity;
And simple dying men have proved true prophets.
"This sword," he cried, to our good, weeping father,
"First won from holiest tomb in Palestine,
Hath earnest reaped of glorious deeds to come.
Darkness shall cover France: in that her hour
Of utmost peril, blood of mine shall claim it,
And with it work deliverance. Where it lies
Let none ere know, save those who shall succeed thee."
His wish has been obeyed.


AUS.                  How of his race?


ABB. He left a babe--its fate unknown to me.


AUS. What greater need than that which now afflicts us?


ABB. I have not laid me down to rest, for months,
Without impatient hope I might be called,
Before night visited again these walls,