Culture

Poetry Corner

On this day 1431 Joan of Arc or The Maid of Orleans was burned at the stake, here is a poem written in her memory.

Joan_of_Arc_statue_at_Rheims_Cathedral

Wikimedia Commons

The Maid of Orleans

Humanity’s bright image to impair.
Scorn laid thee prostrate in the deepest dust;
Wit wages ceaseless war on all that’s fair,
In angel and in God it puts no trust;
The bosom’s treasures it would make its prey,
Besieges fancy,–dims e’en faith’s pure ray.

Yet issuing like thyself from humble line,
Like thee a gentle shepherdess is she
Sweet poesy affords her rights divine,
And to the stars eternal soars with thee.
Around thy brow a glory she hath thrown;
The heart ’twas formed thee,–ever thou’lt live on!

The world delights whate’er is bright to stain,
And in the dust to lay the glorious low;
Yet fear not! noble bosoms still remain,
That for the lofty, for the radiant glow
Let Momus serve to fill the booth with mirth;
A nobler mind loves forms of nobler worth.

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