e continued until the darkness made it
impossible to see friend or foe, but the fate of Scotland's bravest was
sealed. The king lay dead, covered with wounds, and around him a heap of
slain; those who were able made their way in haste from the field, while
the English host encamped where it stood. The more lawless in each army
plundered both sides impartially, and when the king's body was found
next day, it too was stripped like many others around it.

"Then did their loss his foemen know,
Their king, their lords, their mightiest low,
They melted from the field as snow
Dissolves in silent dew.
Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash
While many a broken band,
Disordered, through its currents dash
To gain the Scottish land;
To town and tower, to down and dale,
To tell red Flodden's dismal tale,
And raise the universal wail."

The tragic effects of that terrible day were long felt in Scotland.
Every family of note in the land lost one or more of its members on the
fatal field, besides the thousands of humbler beings who fell at the
same time. Scotland did not recover from the crushing blow for more than
a hundred years; and for many a day the people could not believe that
their gallant king was really slain, but continued to hope that he had
escaped in the darkness, and would one day return.

There has recently been erected on Flodden Field a simple cross of stone
as a memorial of that tragic day. It was unveiled on September 27th,
1910, by Sir George Douglas, Bart. The inscription on the stone is "To
the Brave of both Nations."

THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.

A LAMENT FOR FLODDEN.

I've heard the liltin' at our ewe-milking,
Lasses a' liltin' before dawn o' day;
But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning--
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.

At bughts,[12] in the mornin', nae blythe lads are scornin',
Lasses are lonely and dowie and wae;
Nae daffin', nae jabbin', but sighin' and sabbin',
Ilk ane lifts her leglin [13] and hies her away.

In harst, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering,
Bandsters are lyart,[14] and runkled, and gray;
At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching [15]--
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.

At e'en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming
'Bout stacks, with the lasses at "bogle" to play;
But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie--
The Flowers of the Forest are weded aw