And gave his battle-axe the swing. Right on De Boune, the whiles he pass'd,
Fell that stern dint - the first - the last!
Such strength upon the blow was put, The helmet crash'd like hazel-nut; The axe-shaft, with its brazen clasp, Was shiver'd to the gauntlet grasp. Springs from the blow the startled horse, Drops to the plain the lifeless corse;
First of that fatal field, how soon, How sudden, fell the fierce De Boune!
Now onward, and in open view, The countless ranks of England drew, Dark rolling like the ocean-tide, When the rough west hath chafed his pride,
And his deep roar sends challenge wide To all that bars his way! In front the gallant archers trode, The men-at-arms behind them rode, And midmost of the phalanx broad
The Monarch held his sway. Beside him many a war-horse fumes, Around him waves a sea of plumes, Where many a knight in battle known, And some who spurs had first braced
THE NEW YCLE PUBLIC LIBRARY
ACTOR, LENIX AND TEN FOUNDATIONS
Upon the spot where they have kneel'd, These men will die or win the field."
Then prove we if they die or win! Bid Gloster's Earl the fight begin."
Then spurs were dash'd in chargers' flanks,
They rush'd among the archer ranks, No spears were there the shock to let, No stakes to turn the charge was set, And how shall yeoman's armor slight, Stand the long lance and mace of might?
Or what may their short swords avail, 'Gainst barbed horse and shirt of mail? Amid their ranks the chargers sprung, High o'er their heads the weapons swung,
And shriek and groan and vengeful shout
Give note of triumph and of rout! Awhile, with stubborn hardihood, Their English hearts the strife made good.
Borne down at length on every side, Compell'd to flight, they scatter wide. Let stags of Sherwood leap for glee, And bound the deer of Dallom-Lee! The broken bows of Bannock's shore Shall in the greenwood ring no more! Round Wakefield's merry May-pole
The maids may twine the summer bough,
May northward look with longing glance,
For those that wont to lead the dance, For the blithe archers look in vain! Broken, dispersed, in flight o'erta’en, Pierced through, trode down, by thousands slain,
They cumber Bannock's bloody plain.
Unflinching foot 'gainst foot was set, Unceasing blow by blow was met;
The groans of those who fell Were drown'd amid the shriller clang That from the blades and harness rang, And in the battle-yell.
Yet fast they fell, unheard, forgot,
Both Southern fierce and hardy Scot; And O! amid that waste of life, What various motives fired the strife! The aspiring Noble bled for fame, The Patriot for his country's claim; This Knight his youthful strength to
And that to win his lady's love; Some fought from ruffian thirst of blood,
From habit some, or hardihood. But ruffian stern, and soldier good, The noble and the slave,
From various cause the same wild road, On the same bloody morning, trode, To that dark inn, the grave!
Bruce, with the pilot's wary eye, The slackening of the storm could spy. "One effort more, and Scotland's free! Lord of the Isles, my trust in thee Is firm as Ailsa Rock;
Rush on with Highland sword and targe,
I with my Carrick spearmen charge; Now, forward to the shock!" At once the spears were forward thrown,
Against the sun the broadswords shone;
The pibroch lent its maddening tone, And loud King Robert's voice was known - "Carrick, press on-they fail, they fail!
O give their hapless prince his due! In vain the royal Edward threw
His person 'mid the spears, Cried, "Fight!" to terror and despair, Menaced, and wept, and tore his hair,
And cursed their caitiff fears; Till Pembroke turn'd his bridle rein, And forced him from the fatal plain With them rode Argentine, until They gain'd the summit of the hill, But quitted there the train: "In yonder field a gage I left, I must not live of fame bereft; I needs must turn again.
Speed hence, my Liege, for on your
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