The Lambertville press., 1860-05-30
Salgisfel1aug,
JOAN OF ARC,
THE wARRYOR-1fAIDEN.

About the commencement of the
fourteenth century, the smiles of peace,
which for time had frightened the
sunny hills of France, were fast begin
ming to change, and soon the Scowl of
strife darkened the brow Of the nation,
arousing the king from the lethargic
Slumber inte which his mind had fallen
during the short period that the angel
of Peace had lowered over the nation
but this short respite from scenes Of
war and bloedshed fesembled the dead
calm which ever precedes the mighty
hurricane, and was emily preparing
France for the disastrous strifes which
were to devastate the country.
War was scarcely proclaimed, when
brave hearts eagerly crowded around
the standard of their country, impa-
tiently awaiting the hour when they
would strike the first blow and burst
the chains which fettered the aation.
Such was the state of France during
the reign of Charles the Seventh, when
the English were endeavoring to wrest
the French dominion from his grasp.
With the heartless ambition character
istic of their race, and on the most uu-
just pretensions, they entered into a
disastrous war, which ended only In
their defeat.
In cloudlesS splendor the porten-
tious day dawned but sad and linger-
ing was the gaze of the Angel of Peace
as he bade farewell to that loved lalG,
as the God of War rushed fercely by,
waving aloft his blood stained sceptre,
and laughing in mad, wild mirth at
the dreadful scene of bloodshed and
carnage. The agonized shrieks ofthe
dying - their cries for mercy the
clashing of glittering arms-and the
loud annon's roar, as volley after
volley went fort b on its errand of death
but deepened the grim smile of de-
light on his demoniac face.
For while, the contest between
the contending armies was equal, but
aid coming to the support of the En-
glish, terminated them, and after a
brief struggle victory crowned their
eforts-with loud shouts of triumph
they rushed upon the shattered rem
nant of the French army. The star
of hope which cheered the French was
now dimly and slowly setting; and,
as they beheld this harbinger of coming
woe, they made one dsspairing effort,
but, unable to bear the terrible shock,
fed before the advancing columns of
the British troops.
At length, majestic night came softly
treading over hill and dale, enveloping
Nature in all her beauty within the
shadowy fold of her sable mantle, and
shielding, as in pity, that CORY battle
field, where the bodies of the noble
slain, who, in manhood's prime, had
viewed the mornings dawn with hopes
OF glory, were strewn But that glory
they saw not: and naught was heard
but the low wailing of tie night wind,
as It sang its mournfnl requiem over
theiE nameless graves And, oh, those
who passed unscathed through the
bloody scenes of that day, mourned
as only man can mourn for those
whose spirits had flown from this
earth.
Within the royal camp, in eonsulta-
kion with his generals. sat King Charles,
sad and despairing, begrimmed with
smoke and dust, his rich robes sailed
and torn, and the heavy dark ringlet'
which he was wont to dress with sucl
care, hanging in dishevelled masses
around his noble brow and his eyes
which never beamed but with tender
nsss and love, Hashihg wildly, telling