Farewell, ye hills, ye pastures dearly loved,
Ye quiet homely valleys, fare ye well!
For Joan henceforth shall know your ways no more,
Joan to you all must bid a long farewell!
Ye meadows I have watered, and ye trees
That I have planted, wear your gladsome green!
Farewell, ye grottoes, and ye cooling springs!
Sweet Echo, thou the valley's lovely voice,
Oft though my heart for thy response may yearn,
Joan goes, and never — never — shall return!
Dear tranquil scenes of all my joyful days,
I leave you now behind forevermore!
Poor, foldless lambs, go ye in unknown ways,
And walk unherded where the nightbirds soar!
For I am called another flock to graze
On fields of peril in the battle's roar.
I must obey the Spirit's high decree:
Earth-born ambition has no part in me.
He that to Moses upon Horeb's height
Descended fiery on the bush of flame,
Commanding him to stand in Pharaoh's sight;
Who once to Israel's pious shepherd came,
And made the lad His champion in the fight;
Loves to exalt a lowly shepherd's name.
He hailed me from the branches of this tree,
" Go forth! Thou shalt on earth my witness be!
" Rude brass for garment shall thy soft limbs wear,
In clasp of iron shall thy heart be pressed,
Ne'er in thine eyes shall seem a man's farce fair
Or light the flame of mortal love unblessed!
Never the bride-wreath shall adorn thy hair,
Nor lovely baby blossom at thy breast,
But thou shalt be War's sacrificial bride
Above all earthly women glorified!
" When the most brave in battle shall despair,
When ruin threatens, and all hope seems vain,
Thine arms aloft mine oriflamme shall bear;
And, as the skilful reaper fells the grain,
Thou shalt mow down our foemen everywhere,
And turn Fate's chariot backward by thy rein!
Unto all France shalt thou deliverance bring,
And, freeing Rheims, in triumph crown the King! "
The Heavenly Spirit promised me a sign,
He sends the helmet, for it comes from Him!
Its iron thrills me with the strength divine
That fans the courage of the Cherubim;
And, as the raging whirlwind whips the brine,
It drives me forth to lead the combat grim.
The chargers rear and trembling paw the ground,
The war-cry thunders and the trumpets sound!
Ye quiet homely valleys, fare ye well!
For Joan henceforth shall know your ways no more,
Joan to you all must bid a long farewell!
Ye meadows I have watered, and ye trees
That I have planted, wear your gladsome green!
Farewell, ye grottoes, and ye cooling springs!
Sweet Echo, thou the valley's lovely voice,
Oft though my heart for thy response may yearn,
Joan goes, and never — never — shall return!
Dear tranquil scenes of all my joyful days,
I leave you now behind forevermore!
Poor, foldless lambs, go ye in unknown ways,
And walk unherded where the nightbirds soar!
For I am called another flock to graze
On fields of peril in the battle's roar.
I must obey the Spirit's high decree:
Earth-born ambition has no part in me.
He that to Moses upon Horeb's height
Descended fiery on the bush of flame,
Commanding him to stand in Pharaoh's sight;
Who once to Israel's pious shepherd came,
And made the lad His champion in the fight;
Loves to exalt a lowly shepherd's name.
He hailed me from the branches of this tree,
" Go forth! Thou shalt on earth my witness be!
" Rude brass for garment shall thy soft limbs wear,
In clasp of iron shall thy heart be pressed,
Ne'er in thine eyes shall seem a man's farce fair
Or light the flame of mortal love unblessed!
Never the bride-wreath shall adorn thy hair,
Nor lovely baby blossom at thy breast,
But thou shalt be War's sacrificial bride
Above all earthly women glorified!
" When the most brave in battle shall despair,
When ruin threatens, and all hope seems vain,
Thine arms aloft mine oriflamme shall bear;
And, as the skilful reaper fells the grain,
Thou shalt mow down our foemen everywhere,
And turn Fate's chariot backward by thy rein!
Unto all France shalt thou deliverance bring,
And, freeing Rheims, in triumph crown the King! "
The Heavenly Spirit promised me a sign,
He sends the helmet, for it comes from Him!
Its iron thrills me with the strength divine
That fans the courage of the Cherubim;
And, as the raging whirlwind whips the brine,
It drives me forth to lead the combat grim.
The chargers rear and trembling paw the ground,
The war-cry thunders and the trumpets sound!