The Life of Joan of Arc: The Maid of OrleansC.M. Saxton, 1859 - 223 psl. |
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25 Park Row Armagnac arms asked attack banner battle beautiful Bishop of Beauvais Booksellers brave Burgundians C. M. SAXTON Catharine cause Chinon Clisson command constable council Count of Armagnac courage court crown Darc dauphin death declared Domrémy Duke of Berry Duke of Brittany Duke of Burgundy Duke of Orleans Duke of Touraine Earl enemy English army English king father French gave girl heard heart Heaven Henry holy honor horse interesting Joan of Arc Joan's King Charles King of France king's knew Loire Lord Maid of Orleans ment mission monarch murder Muslin never night noble numbers once Paris peasant-girl Peter de Craon possessed post-paid Price $1 prisoner queen reader receipt of price replied retreat Rheims sent siege of Orleans Sir Peter Sold soldiers spirits story suffer sword Temperance thousand throne tion town Troyes uncles Vaucouleurs victory voices volume York young
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90 psl. - ... to meet her. She might not prefigure the very manner of her death ; she saw not in vision, perhaps, the aerial altitude of the fiery scaffold, the spectators without end on every road pouring into Rouen as to a coronation, the surging smoke, the volleying flames, the hostile faces all around, the pitying eye that lurked but here and there, until nature and imperishable truth broke loose from artificial restraints; — these might not be apparent through the mists of the hurrying future. But the...
203 psl. - ... of the earth was there such a trial as this, if it were laid open in all its beauty of defence, and all its hellishness of attack. Oh, child of France ! shepherdess, peasant girl ! trodden under foot by all around thee, how I...
216 psl. - Is it, indeed, come to this? Alas! the time is short, the tumult is wondrous, the crowd stretches away into infinity; but yet I will search in it for somebody to take your brief: I know of somebody that will be your counsel. Who is this that cometh from Domre'my?
87 psl. - What is to be thought of her ? What is to be thought of the poor shepherd girl from the hills and forests of Lorraine, that like the Hebrew shepherd boy from the hills and forests of Judea — rose suddenly out of the quiet, out of the safety, out of the religious inspiration, rooted in deep pastoral solitudes, to a station in the van of armies, and to the more perilous station at the right hand of kings?
88 psl. - Daughter of Domremy, when the gratitude of thy king shall awaken, thou wilt be sleeping the sleep of the dead. Call her, King of France, but she will not hear thee! Cite her by thy apparitors to come and receive a robe of honour, but she will be found en contumace.
88 psl. - ... was departing from Judah. The poor forsaken girl, on the contrary, drank not herself from that cup of rest which she had secured for France. She never sang together with the songs that rose in her native Domremy, as echoes to the departing steps of invaders.
214 psl. - ... the skirts even of that mighty storm were drawing off. The blood that she was to reckon for had been exacted; the tears that she was to shed in secret had been paid to the last. The hatred to herself in all eyes had been faced steadily, had been suffered, had been survived. And in her last fight upon the scaffold she had triumphed gloriously; victoriously she had tasted the stings of death. For all, except this comfort from her farewell dream, she had died — died, amidst the tears of ten thousand...
215 psl. - ... heart, as at this moment he turned away from the fountain and the woman, seeking rest in the forests afar off. Yet not so to escape the woman, whom once again he must behold before he dies. In the forests to which he prays for pity, will he find a respite? What a tumult, what a gathering of feet is there! In glades, where only wild deer should run, armies and nations are assembling; towering in the fluctuating crowd are phantoms that belong to departed hours. There is the great English Prince,...
213 psl. - This mission had now been fulfilled. The storm was weathered; the skirts even of that mighty storm were drawing off. The blood that she was to reckon for had been exacted; the tears that she was to shed in secret had been paid to the last. The hatred to herself in all eyes had been faced steadily, had been suffered, had been survived. And in her last fight upon the scaffold she had triumphed gloriously; victoriously she had tasted the stings of death. For all, except this comfort from her farewell...
212 psl. - Bishop of Beauvais! thy victim died in fire upon a scaffold — thou upon a down bed. But, for the departing minutes of life, both are oftentimes alike. At the farewell crisis, when the gates of death are opening, and flesh is resting from its struggles, oftentimes the tortured and the torturer have the same truce from carnal torment; both sink together into sleep; together both sometimes kindle into dreams.