"

It was Bayard's last great exploit. It had been his lifelong wish that
he might fall upon the field of battle. And so it was to be.

Early in the spring of 1524, the French camp was posted at Biagrasso.
Lord Bonnivet, who was in command, found himself, after a prolonged
resistance, at last compelled by famine and sickness to retire before
the Spaniards. It was Bayard's constant custom to be first in an
advance and last in retreat, and that day he was, as usual, in the post
of danger. It was for the last time. Friends and enemies were to hear,
before night fell, the thrilling tidings that Bayard was no more.

On both sides of the road which the retreating army had to traverse the
Spaniards had placed in ambush a large force of arquebusiers. It was a
weapon which Bayard held in detestation; for while skill and courage
were required to wield a spear or sword, any skulking wretch could pull
a trigger from behind a stone. From one of these hated weapons he
received his death. As he was retreating slowly with his face toward the
foe, a stone from a cross-arquebus struck him on the side. He instantly
sank forward on his saddle-bow, exclaiming in a faint voice, "Great God!
I am killed."

His squire helped him from his horse, and he was laid beneath a tree.
His spine was broken in two places; and he felt within himself that he
was dying. He took his sword, and kissed the cross-hilt, murmuring aloud
the Latin prayer, "_Miserere mei, Deus, secundum magnam misericordiam
tuam_."

The Spaniards were approaching. His friends made some attempt to raise
him and to bear him from the field. But the least movement made him
faint with agony; and he felt that all was vain. He charged his
companions, as they loved him, to turn his face toward the enemy, and to
retire into a place of safety; and he sent, with his last breath, his
salutation to the king. With breaking hearts they did as he desired, and
he was left alone.

When the Spaniards reached the spot, they found him still alive, but
sinking fast. The conduct of Lord Pescara, the Spanish general, toward
his dying foe, was worthy of a great and noble knight. He bade his own
pavilion to be spread above him; cushions were placed beneath his head;
and a friar was brought, to whom he breathed his last confession. As he
was uttering the final words, his voice faltered, and his head fell. The
friar looked upon his face--and saw that all was over.

GUSTAVUS VASA[11]

[