"Forth, Marshall, on the peasant foe! We'll tame the terrors of their bow, And cut the bow-string loose!"
Then spurs were dashed in chargers' flanks,
They rushed among the archer ranks.
No spears were there the shock to let,
No stakes to turn the charge were set,
And how shall yeoman's armor slight
Stand the long lance and mace of might?
Or what may their short swords avail,
'Gainst barbèd 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,
Compelled to flight, they scatter wide.
The tug of strife to flag begins,
Though neither loses yet nor wins.
High rides the sun, thick rolls the dust,
And feebler speeds the blow and thrust.
Douglas leans on his war-sword now,
And Randolph wipes his bloody brow;
Nor less had toiled each Southern knight.
From morn till mid-day in the fight.
Strong Egremont for air must gasp,
Beauchamp undoes his vizor-clasp,
And Montague must quit his spear,
And sinks thy falchion, bold De Vere!
The blows of Berkley fall less fast,
And gallant Pembroke's bugle-blast
Hath lost its lively tone;
Sinks, Argentine, thy battle-word,
And Percy's shout was fainter heard,
"My merry-men, fight on!"
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!
Press on, brave sons of Innisgail,
The foe is fainting fast!
Each strike for parent, child, and wife,
For Scotland, liberty, and life, —
The battle cannot last!"
Rejected from the ranks of war,
Had not unmoved beheld the fight,
When strove the Bruce for Scotland's right;
Each heart had caught the patriot spark,
Old man and stripling, priest and clerk,
Bondsman and serf; even female hand
Stretched to the hatchet or the brand.
"To us, as to our lords, are given
A native earth, a promised heaven;
To us, as to our lords, belongs
The vengeance for our nation's wrongs;
The choice, 'twixt death or freedom, warms
Our breasts as theirs - To arms, to arms!"
To arms they flew, axe, club, or spear,
And mimic ensigns high they rear,
And, like a bannered host afar,
Bear down on England's wearied war.
Already scattered o'er the plain,
Reproof, command, and counsel vain,
The rearward squadrons fled amain,
Or made but doubtful stay :-
But when they marked the seeming show
Of fresh and fierce and marshalled foe,
The boldest broke array.
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 turned his bridle rein,
And forced him from the fatal plain.
With them rode Argentine, until
They gained the summit of the hill,
But quitted there the train:-
'Speed hence, my Liege, for on your trace
The fiery Douglas takes the chase,
I know his banner well.
God send my Sovereign joy and bliss,
And many a happier field than this! —
Once more, my Liege, farewell."
THE deposition of the second Edward was due to his foolish fondness for favorites. The first of these, Piers Gaveston, a French adventurer, had been banished by Edward I. Immediately on his accession to the throne, Edward II. recalled his "Brother Peter" and lavished estates and great offices upon him. The haughty and insolent ways of Gaveston rendered him hateful to the English lords, and they sought to drive him from the kingdom. Failing in this, they put him to death. The king consoled himself with a new favorite, Hugh Despenser, English born, but quite as unpopular as the Frenchman. The exasperated barons rose in revolt against their unworthy sovereign. They found an ally in Queen Isabel who, neglected by her husband, schemed to place her son upon the throne. Edward and Despenser were taken prisoners, the favorite was put to death, the king deposed (1327), and the young prince proclaimed as
Edward III. The fate of Edward II. is uncertain, but it seems most probable that he was secretly and brutally murdered by order of Mortimer.
SCENE I. A Street in London.
Gav. "My father is deceas'd! Come, Gaveston, And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend." Ah! words that make me surfeit with delight! What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston
Than live and be the favourite of a king!
Sweet prince, I come! these, these thy amorous lines
Might have enforc'd me to have swum from France,
And, like Leander, gasp'd upon the sand,
So thou wouldst smile, and take me in thine arms.
The sight of London to my exil'd eyes
Is as Elysium to a new-come soul;
Not that I love the city, or the men,
But that it harbours him I hold so dear,
The king, upon whose bosom let me lie,
And with the world be still at enmity.
What need the Arctic people love starlight,
To whom the sun shines both by day and night?
Farewell base stooping to the lordly peers!
My knee shall bow to none but to the king.
As for the multitude, that are but sparks,
Raked up in embers of their poverty, —
Tanti; I'll fawn first on the wind
That glanceth at my lips, and flieth away.
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