oons the stout
hearts of Warwickshire and Yorkshire. On, my merry men! A Warwick! A
Warwick!"

As he ended, he swung lightly over his head the terrible battle-axe
which had smitten down, as the grass before the reaper, the chivalry of
many a field; and ere the last blast of the trumpets died, the troops of
Warwick and of Gloucester met, and mingled hand to hand.

Although the earl had, on discovering the position of the enemy, moved
some of his artillery from his right wing, yet there still lay the great
number and strength of his force. And there, therefore, Montagu, rolling
troop on troop to the aid of Oxford, pressed so overpoweringly upon
the soldiers under Hastings, that the battle very soon wore a most
unfavourable aspect for the Yorkists. It seemed, indeed, that the
success which had always hitherto attended the military movements of
Montagu was destined for a crowning triumph. Stationed, as we have said,
in the rear, with his light-armed squires, upon fleet steeds, around
him, he moved the springs of the battle with the calm sagacity which at
that moment no chief in either army possessed. Hastings was thoroughly
outflanked, and though his men fought with great valour, they could not
resist the weight of superior numbers.

In the midst of the carnage in the centre, Edward reined in his steed as
he heard the cry of victory in the gale.

"By Heaven!" he exclaimed, "our men at the left are cravens! they fly!
they fly!--Ride to Lord Hastings, Sir Humphrey Bourchier, bid him defile
hither what men are left him; and now, ere our fellows are well
aware what hath chanced yonder, charge we, knights and gentlemen, on,
on!--break Somerset's line; on, on, to the heart of the rebel earl!"

Then, visor closed, lance in rest, Edward and his cavalry dashed through
the archers and billmen of Somerset; clad in complete mail, impervious
to the weapons of the infantry, they slaughtered as they rode, and their
way was marked by corpses and streams of blood. Fiercest and fellest of
all was Edward himself; when his lance shivered, and he drew his knotty
mace from its sling by his saddlebow, woe to all who attempted to stop
his path. Vain alike steel helmet or leathern cap, jerkin or coat of
mail. In vain Somerset threw himself into the melee. The instant Edward
and his cavalry had made a path through the lines for his foot-soldiery,
the fortunes of the day were half retrieved. It was no rapid passage,
pierced and reclosed, that he