A Metrical History of England Or, Recollections, in Rhyme, Of some of the most prominent Features in our National Chronology, from the Landing of Julius Caesar to the Commencement of the Regency, in 1812. In Two Volumes ... By Thomas Dibdin |
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 | A Metrical History of England |  |
JOAN of ARC.
A Tragedye fulle of Merrie Conceites.
Joan of Arc, they say, was mad,
Some a conjuror misname her;
And swear she by the Dauphin had
A little—but why here defame her?
Some a conjuror misname her;
And swear she by the Dauphin had
A little—but why here defame her?
Who against the maid say this?
Enemies I dare assure ye;
And she's no subject well I wis,
For trial by an English Jury.
Enemies I dare assure ye;
And she's no subject well I wis,
For trial by an English Jury.
286
Britons then would jibe, as now,
At men of France,—could kill and eat 'em;
Yet contrived, I can't tell how,
To let a French young woman beat 'em.
At men of France,—could kill and eat 'em;
Yet contrived, I can't tell how,
To let a French young woman beat 'em.
Joan, derived of parents poor,
Had nor learning, name, nor riches;
Yet did wonders, to be sure,
As ladies will who wear the breeches.
Had nor learning, name, nor riches;
Yet did wonders, to be sure,
As ladies will who wear the breeches.
By some 'tis not unshrewdly thought,
She by the Dauphin's friends was taught
To play her pretty patriotic part;
Well, if she was,
She own'd, that's poz,
Uncommon skill, and most consummate art.
She by the Dauphin's friends was taught
To play her pretty patriotic part;
Well, if she was,
She own'd, that's poz,
Uncommon skill, and most consummate art.
Joan was a simple shepherd's maid,
Yet nightly visited, she said,
By visions, and by angel sights;
Which told her where, if she'd a mind,
A rare and rusty sword to find,
With power to put the English folks to rights.
Yet nightly visited, she said,
By visions, and by angel sights;
Which told her where, if she'd a mind,
A rare and rusty sword to find,
With power to put the English folks to rights.
Then in the stoutness of her soul,
She sent to William De la Pole,
And bid him lead his Britons back;
Or, by the guardian pow'rs of France,
She swore to make his people dance,
And bang his body like a sack.
She sent to William De la Pole,
287
Or, by the guardian pow'rs of France,
She swore to make his people dance,
And bang his body like a sack.
I own the simile is very low,
But Joan would speak her mind you know;
And, I know too, a shepherd wench is,
(Whether she English girl or French is),
Not sheepish when conversing with a foe.
Something she must have said, which form derides,
For De la pole
Thought it so droll,
He laugh'd enough to split his Suffolk sides.
But when his armour she began to batter,
The chief declared 'twas no such laughing matter;
Nor knew by what ill-natured names to christen her,
When, spite of his broad sword, she took him pris'ner.
Talbot, and Hungerford, Rampstone, and Scales,
Fretted like hottest gentlemen of Wales
When they were taken,—swore 'twas very odd,
The French ascribed the power of a God
To sturdy Joan, while Englishmen less civil,
Declared such treatment was the very Devil.
But Joan would speak her mind you know;
And, I know too, a shepherd wench is,
(Whether she English girl or French is),
Not sheepish when conversing with a foe.
Something she must have said, which form derides,
For De la pole
Thought it so droll,
He laugh'd enough to split his Suffolk sides.
But when his armour she began to batter,
The chief declared 'twas no such laughing matter;
Nor knew by what ill-natured names to christen her,
When, spite of his broad sword, she took him pris'ner.
Talbot, and Hungerford, Rampstone, and Scales,
Fretted like hottest gentlemen of Wales
288
The French ascribed the power of a God
To sturdy Joan, while Englishmen less civil,
Declared such treatment was the very Devil.
Towns she relieved, more captives took,
And thro' her valour Charles, it seems,
Was crown'd the Sovereign of France at Rheims
When by her brilliant star forsook,
A knight of Burgundy o'ercame poor Joan,
Sent her in irons to be tried at Roan.
Where can I without shame relate it?
Wicked transaction! how I hate it!
Soldiers and nobles, gentlemen of note,
Prelates,—the story's sticking in my throat,
A mean trap laid,
To catch the maid
While putting on, poor girl, a suit of armour;
And, foul befal the chiefs that so could harm her!
To all their everlasting shames,
(I burst to call them fifty names,)
Condemn'd the gallant damsel to the flames.
And was this most unmanly action done
Merely for putting martial harness on?
No, 'twas mere spite, one sees it in a minute,
Because she had most soundly thrash'd 'em in it.
And thro' her valour Charles, it seems,
Was crown'd the Sovereign of France at Rheims
When by her brilliant star forsook,
A knight of Burgundy o'ercame poor Joan,
Sent her in irons to be tried at Roan.
Where can I without shame relate it?
Wicked transaction! how I hate it!
Soldiers and nobles, gentlemen of note,
Prelates,—the story's sticking in my throat,
A mean trap laid,
To catch the maid
289
And, foul befal the chiefs that so could harm her!
To all their everlasting shames,
(I burst to call them fifty names,)
Condemn'd the gallant damsel to the flames.
And was this most unmanly action done
Merely for putting martial harness on?
No, 'twas mere spite, one sees it in a minute,
Because she had most soundly thrash'd 'em in it.
French authors say she never slept in camp without two of her brothers to guard her; nor in a town without some female, of exemplary character, to bear her company.
Suffolk was taken by Renaud, a French gentleman, whom he first knighted before he would surrender to him.
The Regent, in his letter to the King and Council, speaks of Joan as a Disciple and Lymme of the Fiende that used fals Enchauntments and Sorcerie, the which strocke and discomfiture not onlie lessed in grete Pertie the nombre of youre people there, bote as well withdrowe the courage of the reminant in mervellous wyse.” Rymer's Fædera.
| A Metrical History of England | |