The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 403

What strange power Hath seized the maiden?

RAIMOND.

Doubtless 'tis the helmet Which doth inspire her with such martial thoughts.

Look at your daughter. Mark her flas.h.i.+ng eye, Her glowing cheek, which kindles as with fire.

JOHANNA.

This realm shall fall! This ancient land of fame, The fairest that, in his majestic course, The eternal sun surveys--this paradise, Which, as the apple of his eye, G.o.d loves-- Endure the fetters of a foreign yoke?

Here were the heathen scattered, and the cross And holy image first were planted here; Here rest St. Louis' ashes, and from hence The troops went forth who set Jerusalem free.

BERTRAND (in astonishment).

Hark how she speaks! Why, whence can she obtain This glorious revelation? Father Arc!

A wondrous daughter G.o.d hath given you!

JOHANNA.

We shall no longer serve a native prince!

The king, who never dies, shall pa.s.s away-- The guardian of the sacred plough, who fills The earth with plenty, who protects our herds, Who frees the bondmen from captivity, Who gathers all his cities round his throne-- Who aids the helpless, and appals the base, Who envies no one, for he reigns supreme; Who is a mortal, yet an angel too, Dispensing mercy on the hostile earth.

For the king's throne, which glitters o'er with gold, Affords a shelter for the dest.i.tute; Power and compa.s.sion meet together there, The guilty tremble, but the just draw near, And with the guardian lion fearless sport!

The stranger king, who cometh from afar, Whose fathers' sacred ashes do not lie Interred among us; can he love our land?

Who was not young among our youth, whose heart Respondeth not to our familiar words, Can he be as a father to our sons?

THIBAUT.

G.o.d save the king and France! We're peaceful folk, Who neither wield the sword, nor rein the steed.

--Let us await the king whom victory crowns; The fate of battle is the voice of G.o.d.

He is our lord who crowns himself at Rheims, And on his head receives the holy oil.

--Come, now to work! come! and let every one Think only of the duty of the hour!

Let the earth's great ones for the earth contend, Untroubled we may view the desolation, For steadfast stand the acres which we till.

The flames consume our villages, our corn Is trampled 'neath the tread of warlike steeds; With the new spring new harvests reappear, And our light huts are quickly reared again!

[They all retire except the maiden.

SCENE IV.

JOHANNA (alone).

Farewell ye mountains, ye beloved glades, Ye lone and peaceful valleys, fare ye well!

Through you Johanna never more may stray!

For, ay, Johanna bids you now farewell.

Ye meads which I have watered, and ye trees Which I have planted, still in beauty bloom!

Farewell ye grottos, and ye crystal springs!

Sweet echo, vocal spirit of the vale.

Who sang'st responsive to my simple strain, Johanna goes, and ne'er returns again.

Ye scenes where all my tranquil joys I knew, Forever now I leave you far behind!

Poor foldless lambs, no shepherd now have you!

O'er the wide heath stray henceforth unconfined!

For I to danger's field, of crimson hue, Am summoned hence another flock to find.

Such is to me the spirit's high behest; No earthly, vain ambition fires my breast.

For who in glory did on h.o.r.eb's height Descend to Moses in the bush of flame, And bade him go and stand in Pharaoh's sight-- Who once to Israel's pious shepherd came, And sent him forth, his champion in the fight,-- Who aye hath loved the lowly shepherd train,-- He, from these leafy boughs, thus spake to me, "Go forth! Thou shalt on earth my witness be.

"Thou in rude armor must thy limbs invest, A plate of steel upon thy bosom wear; Vain earthly love may never stir thy breast, Nor pa.s.sion's sinful glow be kindled there.

Ne'er with the bride-wreath shall thy locks be dressed, Nor on thy bosom bloom an infant fair; But war's triumphant glory shall be thine; Thy martial fame all women's shall outs.h.i.+ne.

"For when in fight the stoutest hearts despair, When direful ruin threatens France, forlorn, Then thou aloft my oriflamme shalt bear, And swiftly as the reaper mows the corn, Thou shalt lay low the haughty conqueror; His fortune's wheel thou rapidly shalt turn, To Gaul's heroic sons deliverance bring, Relieve beleaguered Rheims, and crown thy king!"

The heavenly spirit promised me a sign; He sends the helmet, it hath come from him.

Its iron filleth me with strength divine, I feel the courage of the cherubim; As with the rus.h.i.+ng of a mighty wind It drives me forth to join the battles din; The clanging trumpets sound, the chargers rear, And the loud war-cry thunders in mine ear.

[She goes out.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The royal residence at Chinon.

DUNOIS and DUCHATEL.

DUNOIS.

No longer I'll endure it. I renounce This recreant monarch who forsakes himself.

My valiant heart doth bleed, and I could rain Hot tear-drops from mine eyes, that robber-swords Part.i.tion thus the royal realm of France; That cities, ancient as the monarchy, Deliver to the foe the rusty keys, While here in idle and inglorious ease We lose the precious season of redemption.

Tidings of Orleans' peril reach mine ear, Hither I sped from distant Normandy, Thinking, arrayed in panoply of war, To find the monarch with his marshalled hosts; And find him--here! begirt with troubadours, And juggling knaves, engaged in solving riddles, And planning festivals in Sorel's honor, As brooded o'er the land profoundest peace!

The Constable hath gone; he will not brook Longer the spectacle of shame. I, too, Depart, and leave him to his evil fate.

DUCHATEL.

Here comes the king.

SCENE II.

KING CHARLES. The same.

CHARLES.

The Constable hath sent us back his sword And doth renounce our service. Now, by heaven!

He thus hath rid us of a churlish man, Who insolently sought to lord it o'er us.

DUNOIS.

A man is precious in such perilous times; I would not deal thus lightly with his loss.

CHARLES.

Thou speakest thus from love of opposition; While he was here thou never wert his friend.

DUNOIS.

He was a tiresome, proud, vexatious fool, Who never could resolve. For once, however, He hath resolved. Betimes he goeth hence, Where honor can no longer be achieved.