momentary beam vanished from the heaven,
the two forces mingled in the sullen mists, when, after a brief
conflict, a sudden and horrible cry of "Treason! Treason!" resounded
from either band. The shining star of Oxford, returning from the
pursuit, had been mistaken for Edward's cognizance of the sun.
[Cont. Croyl., 555; Fabyan, Habington, Hume, S. Turner.] Friend was
slaughtering friend, and when the error was detected, each believed the
other had deserted to the foe. In vain, here Montagu and Warwick, and
there Oxford and his captains, sought to dispel the confusion, and unite
those whose blood had been fired against each other. While yet in
doubt, confusion, and dismay, rushed full into the centre Edward of York
himself, with his knights and riders; and his tossing banners, scarcely
even yet distinguished from Oxford's starry ensigns, added to the
general incertitude and panic. Loud in the midst rose Edward's trumpet
voice, while through the midst, like one crest of foam upon a roaring
sea, danced his plume of snow. Hark! again, again--near and nearer--the
tramp of steeds, the clash of steel, the whiz and hiss of arrows, the
shout of "Hastings to the onslaught!" Fresh, and panting for glory and
for blood, came on King Edward's large reserve; from all the scattered
parts of the field spurred the Yorkist knights, where the uproar, so
much mightier than before, told them that the crisis of the war was
come. Thither, as vultures to the carcass, they flocked and wheeled;
thither D'Eyncourt and Lovell, and Cromwell's bloody sword, and
Say's knotted mace; and thither, again rallying his late half-beaten
myrmidons, the grim Gloucester, his helmet bruised and dinted, but the
boar's teeth still gnashing wrath and horror from the grisly crest. But
direst and most hateful of all in the eyes of the yet undaunted earl,
thither, plainly visible, riding scarcely a yard before him, with the
cognizance of Clare wrought on his gay mantle, and in all the pomp and
bravery of a holiday suit, came the perjured Clarence. Conflict now it
could scarce be called: as well might the Dane have rolled back the sea
from his footstool, as Warwick and his disordered troop (often and aye,
dazzled here by Oxford's star, there by Edward's sun, dealing random
blows against each other) have resisted the general whirl and torrent
of the surrounding foe. To add to the rout, Somerset and the on-guard
of his wing had been marching towards the earl at the very t