BOOK THE SEVENTH.
247
Shame! shame! that beaten Boy is here in arms,
And ye will fly before the fugitives;
Fly from a woman! from a frenzied girl!
That with her empty mummeries, would blast
Your courage; or if miracles she brings, 515
Aid of the Devil! who is there among you
False to his country—to his former fame—
To me—your leader to the frequent field,
The field of glory?"
From the heartless host
A timid shout arose: then Talbot's cheek 520
Grew red with indignation. "Earl!" he cried,
Addressing him the Chief: "there is no hope
From these white-liver'd dastards; and this fort
Will fall an easy conquest: it were well
To reach the Tournelles, better fortified, 525
Fit to endure long siege: the hope in view
To reach a safer fortress, these our troops
Shall better dare the battle."
So he spake,
And ye will fly before the fugitives;
Fly from a woman! from a frenzied girl!
That with her empty mummeries, would blast
Your courage; or if miracles she brings, 515
Aid of the Devil! who is there among you
False to his country—to his former fame—
To me—your leader to the frequent field,
The field of glory?"
From the heartless host
A timid shout arose: then Talbot's cheek 520
Grew red with indignation. "Earl!" he cried,
Addressing him the Chief: "there is no hope
From these white-liver'd dastards; and this fort
Will fall an easy conquest: it were well
To reach the Tournelles, better fortified, 525
Fit to endure long siege: the hope in view
To reach a safer fortress, these our troops
Shall better dare the battle."
So he spake,
Wisely
