11. The stubborn spearmen still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood,

Each stepping where his comrade stood,
The instant that he fell.

No thought was there of dastard flight;
Link'd in the serried phalanx tight,
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,
As fearlessly and well;

Till utter darkness closed her wing
O'er their thin host and wounded king.
12. Then skilful Surrey's sage commands
Led back from strife his shattered bands;
And from the charge they drew,
As mountain-waves, from wasted lands,
Sweep back to ocean blue.

Then did their loss his foemen know;
Their king, their lords, their mightiest, low,

They melted from the field as snow,

When streams are swoln, and south winds blow,
Dissolves in silent dew.

13. Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash,

While many a broken band,

Disorder'd, through her curients 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.
Tradition, legend, time and song,
Shall many an age that wail prolong ;
Still from the sire the son shall hear
Of the stern strife and carnage drear

Of Flodden's fatal field,

Where shivered was fair Scotland's spear,
And broken was her shield.

SCOTT

89. EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN.

[Mr. AYTOUN is not inferior to Scott in his description of the heart-breaking sorrow with which the news of this battle was received in Edin`urgh.]

EWS of battle !-news of battle!

NEWS

Hark! 'tis ringing down the street;
And the archways and the pavement
Bear the clang of hurrying feet.
News of battle!-who hath brought it?
News of triumph!-who should bring
Tidings from our noble army,

Greetings from our gallant king?

2. All last night we watched the beacons
Blazing on the hills afar,

Each one bearing, as it kindled,
Message of the opened war.

All night long the northern streamers
Shot across the trembling sky:
Fearful lights, that never beacon
Save when kings or heroes die.

8. News of battle!-who hath brought it?
All are thronging to the gate;
"Warder-warder! open quickly!
Man-is this a time to wait?"
And the heavy gates are opened:
Then a murmur long and loud,

And a cry of fear and wonder,
Bursts from out the bending crowd.

4. For they see in battered harness
Only one hard-stricken man;
And his weary steed is wounded,
And his cheek is pale and wan:

Spearless hangs a bloody banner

In his weak and drooping handGod! can that be Randolph Murray, Captain of the city band?

5. Round him crush the people, crying,
"Tell us all-0, tell us true!
Where are they who went to battle,
Randolph Murray, sworn to you?
Where are they, our brothers-children,-
Have they met the English foe?
Why art thou alone, unfollowed?
Is it weal or is it woe?

6. Like a corpse the grisly warrior

Looks from out his helm of steel
But no word he speaks in answer-
Only with his arméd heel
Chides his weary steed, and onward
Up the city streets they ride;
Fathers, sisters, mothers, children,
Shrieking, praying by his side.

;

7. "By the God that made thee, Randolph! Tell us what mischance hath come."

Then he lifts his riven banner,

And the asker's voice is dumb.

The elders of the city

Have met within their hall

The men whom good King James had charged
To watch the tower and wall.

8. Then in came Randolph Murray,His step was slow and weak, And as he doffed his dinted helm,

The tears ran down his cheek:

They fell upon his corselet,
And on his mailéd hand,

As he gazed around him wistfully,
Leaning sorely on his brand.

9. And none who then beheld him

But straight were smote with fear;
For a bolder and a sterner man
Had never couched a spear.
Ay ye may well look upon it-
There is more than honor there,
Else be sure, I had not brought it
From the field of dark despair.

10. Never yet was royal banner

Steeped in such a costly dye;
It hath lain upon a bosom

Where no other shroud shall lie.
Sirs I charge you, keep it holy,
Keep it as a sacred thing,
For the stain ye see upon it

Was the life-blood of your king!

11. Woe, woe, and lamentation !

What a piteous cry was there!
Widows, maidens, mothers, children,
Shrieking, sobbing in despair!
Through the streets the death-word rushes,
Spreading terror, sweeping on-

Jesu Christ! Our king has fallen;
O, great God! King James is gone!

12. Holy Mother Mary, shield us!

Thou, who erst didst lose thy Son!
Oh, the blackest day for Scotland
That she ever knew before!

Oh our king-the good, the noble,
Shall we see him never more?

13. Woe to us, and woe to Scotland,
Oh, our sons, our sons and men !
Surely some have 'scaped the Southron,
Surely some will come again,

Till the oak that fell last winter
Shall uprear its shattered stem:
Wives and mothers, Dunedin,
Ye may look in vain for them!

WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN.

40. THE LIGHT BRIGADE.

[This spirited poem describes a gallant and desperate charge made at the battle of Balaklava, during the war in the Crimea in 1854. It is supposed that the order to charge was given under a mistake; but of this nothing definite is known, as Captain Nolan, who gave the order, was the first man who fell. Six hundred and thirty rushed to the charge, and only one hundred and fifty ever returned.]