Springs from the blow the startled horse,
Drops on the plain the lifeless corse;
First of that fatal field, how soon,
How sudden fell the fierce De Bohun!
61. One pitying glance the monarch shed
Where on the field his foe lay dead;
Then gently turned his palfrey's head,
And, pacing back his sober way,
Slowly he gained his own array.
There round their king the leaders crowd
And blame his recklessness aloud,
That risked 'gainst each adventurous spear
A life so valued and so dear.
His broken weapon's shaft surveyed
The king, and careless answer made
"My loss must pay my folly's tax--
I've broke my trusty battle-axe"
62. The next morning, being the 24th of June, at break of day the
battle began in terrible earnest. The English as they advanced saw the
Scots getting into lines. The Abbot of Inchaffray walked through their
ranks barefooted, and exhorted them to fight for their freedom. They
kneeled down as he passed, and prayed to heaven for victory. King
Edward, who saw this, called out: "They kneel down; they are asking
forgiveness." "Yes," said a celebrated English baron, called Ingelram
de Umphraville, "but they ask it from God, not from us; these men will
conquer, or die upon the field." The English king ordered his men to
begin the battle. The archers then bent their bows, and began to shoot
so closely together that the arrows fell like flakes of snow on a
Christmas-day.
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