"Of treaty, of surrender not a word! A saviour comes and arms her for the fight. At Orleans wrecks the fortune of the foe! His measure full, he is for harvest ripe, And with her sickle shall the virgin come, And reap the rank luxuriance of his pride. Down from the heavens she tears that blazon'd fame These English knights have hung about the stars. Fly not! droop not! Before the corn is yellow in the fields, Before this moon has fill'd her globe of light, There shall not drink an English horse Of the sweet-flowing waters of the Loire. _Bertrand._--Alas! the age of miracles is past. _Johanna._--Not past! ye shall behold a miracle. Lo! a white dove with eagle courage flies Down on the vulture that still rends his prey, Our mangled country. The traitor Burgundy, The haughty Talbot that would storm the skies, This Salisbury, scandal of the Temple's order, And all these insolent proud islanders Shall fly before her like a herd of lambs." Of this prologue it has been justly said, that it might as well have been the first scene of the first act: for it is as essential to the progress of the piece as any one scene in the play; and the speakers re-appear, and for very important purposes, in the body of the drama. For our part, we look upon prologues of this description as little else than a device of the poet to gain more space than his five acts afforded him. When it has no connexion with the action of the piece, we wish to know what claim it has to be there at all; and when it is so connected, we are at a loss to perceive what end it answers, which could not be as legitimately prosecuted under the old title of Act I. Scene 1. The nominal first act opens with the little court of Charles at Chinon. Here all is verging towards a state of desperation. Finances exhausted, troops threatening to disband, and a deputation from Orleans to inform the king that the town had agreed to surrender, if, within fourteen days, effectual succour was not sent to relieve it. Charles answers in despair:-- "Can I by stamping with my feet Raise armies from the ground? Can I Pour granaries from this bare and naked palm? Rend me in pieces! Tear me out this heart, And coin it for gold! Blood have I for you, But silver have I none, nor corn, nor soldiers."