Reviews.

¦ \ Vhose Avondrous skill might all her doubts dispel , And read the thoughts that in her soul did sAvell ; And hoAV she writhed when France crouched to defeat

, H OAV her blood boiled , and wildly her heart beat , AVhen Henry wore , in Paris , France ' s crown , And the weak babe assumed his sire ' s

renown . And how at last ! ' mid all her doubts and fears , Those voices broke upon her startled ears . ' Oh ! sirs ! ' she said ' I still recall that day , How through the fields I took my pensive

way , My soul filled with strange thoughts ; hoAV by a stream , AVhich wandered nigh , I sat me down to dream ; And hoAV the evening bells , that called to

prayer , Flowed solemn out upon the perfumed air , — And sudden in their peal I heard a tone , AVhich said that- France might rise by me alone .

Oh then , like Avaves , o ' er my enraptured soul Dim shades of my great destiny did roll , Aud by that stream I knelt , and weeping prayed To God ' s blessed Mother for support and aid .

And from that day those visions often came , Voices like distant bells , and forms of flame That bade me bide my time , for that this hand

Should crown my King , and save my native land !' And as she spake , it seemed she'd taller groAvn , And in her eyes the light of battle shone . She raised one stately arm with gesture

proud , While o ' er her shoulders her dark tresses HoAved . ' To Orleans ! ' she cried ; ' for lean Despair , Hunger , and Horror , have their dwelling there ! To Orleans ! and should you doubt me yet , Go to the church to Catharine dedicate

Of Fierbois ; there , in an ancient grave , "Where weeps a sculp tured form the fallen brave , Whose head is on her breast , Avhose once proud eyes Are closed in death , the destined weapon

lies . ' She ceased , and they , submissive , as she bade , Impressed , yet doubtful , to the church proceed ; And Joan sank exhausted on the bed , Her limbs relaxed , her inspiration fled .

And we almost see her go out from Chinon'Twas noon , ere from the gate of Chinon rode The Maidall armed , ' mid acclamations

, loud ; And with her Boussac , De Coulant , La-Hire , And hundreds Avho had flocked from far and near To join the sacred standard , —a rude

throng , But fierce in hate , in desperation strong—They formed in line of march upon the p lain—Nor Avas Pierre absent from the martial

train—And started on the road to Blois , for there The Maid had summoned all Avho held France dear To meet her . As they wound across the hill , Many an eye with silent tears was full : Many a heart heat high with hope for France , To see their helmets flash , their bright swords glance .

We have a vivid account of the battle—Then Joan led the way , —her banner spread , And soaring angel-like above her head ; And in her hand the fated sword , whose miht

g Seemed to have power to pierce the pitchy night ; For every flash across the sky displayed , Reflected shone from the uplifted hlade . And as the English from their forts descried