94
JOAN OF ARC.
Rose to the distant view; imperial seat
Of Charles, for Paris with her servile sons
A headstrong mutable ferocious race,
Bow'd to the invader's yoke, since that sad hour
When Faction o'er her streets with giant stride65
Strode terrible, and Murder and Revenge,[1]
As by the midnight torches' lurid light
They mark'd their mangled victims writhe convuls'd,
Listen'd the deep death groan. Ill-fated scene!
Thro' many a dark age drench'd with innocent blood,70
And one day doom'd to know the damning guilt
Of Brissot murder'd, and the blameless wife
Of Roland! Martyr'd patriots—spirits pure,
Wept by the good ye fell! Yet still survives
Sow'd
- ↑ Line 791 A dreadful slaughter of the Armagnacs had taken place when Lisle Adam entered Paris at midnight, May 18, 1418. This however, was only a prelude to a much greater commotion in the same city some days after. Upon news of what had passed, the exiles being returned to Paris from all quarters, the massacre was renewed June the 12th. The constable Armagnac was taken out of prison, murdered, and shamefully dragged through the streets. The Chancellor, several Bishops, and other persons, to the number of two thousand, underwent the same barbarous treatment. Women and children died smothered in dungeons. Many of the Nobles were forced to leap from high towers upon the points of spears. The massacre being ended, the Queen and the Duke of Burgundy entered Paris in triumph. Mezeray.—Rapin.
