tion hath been doomed to woe;
On their descendants dawns a brighter day;
The gladness of the son wakes not the sire.
This the dire fruitage of your brother-strife!
Oh, princes, learn from hence to pause with dread,
Ere from its scabbard ye unsheath the sword.
The man of power lets loose the god of war,
But not, obedient, as from fields of air
Returns the falcon to the sportsman's hand,
Doth the wild deity obey the call
Of mortal voice; nor will the Saviour's hand
A second time forth issue from the clouds.

BURGUNDY.
Oh, sire! an angel walketh by your side.
Where is she? Why do I behold her not?

CHARLES.
Where is Johanna? Wherefore faileth she
To grace the festival we owe to her?

ARCHBISHOP.
She loves not, sire, the idleness of the court,
And when the heavenly mandate calls her not
Forth to the world's observance, she retires,
And doth avoid the notice of the crowd.
Doubtless, unless the welfare of the realm
Claims her regard, she communes with her God,
For still a blessing on her steps attends.

SCENE IV.

The same.
JOHANNA enters. She is clad in armor, and wears
a garland in her hair.

CHARLES.
Thou comest as a priestess decked, Johanna,
To consecrate the union formed by thee!

BURGUNDY.
How dreadful was the maiden in the fight!
How lovely circled by the beams of peace!
My word, Johanna, have I now fulfilled?
Art thou contented? Have I thine applause?

JOHANNA.
The greatest favor thou hast shown thyself.
Arrayed in blessed light thou shinest now,
Who didst erewhile with bloody, ominous ray,
Hang like a moon of terror in the heavens.
[Looking round.
Many brave knights I find assembled here,
And joy's glad radiance beams in every eye;
One mourner, one alone I have encountered;
He must conceal himself, where all rejoice.

BURGUNDY.
And who is conscious of such heavy guilt,
That of our favor he must needs despair?

JOHANNA.
May he approach? Oh, tell me that he may;
Complete thy merit. Void the reconcilement
That frees not the whole heart. A drop of hate
Remaining in the cup of joy converts
The blessed draught to poison. Let there be
No deed so stained with blood that Burgundy
Cannot forgive it on this day of joy.

BURGUNDY.
Ha! now I understand!

JOHANNA.
And thou'lt forgive?
Thou wilt indeed forgive? Come in, Duchatel!

[She opens the door and leads in DUCHATEL,
who remains standing at a distance.

The duke is reconciled to all his foes,
And h