wounded in the mouth; Sir Arthur Darcy's hand was disabled, and the English standard was saved only by the flight of the bearer. The men turned, reeled, scattered, and rallied only when Grey and Lord Edward Seymour fought back their way to them out of the mêlée. They might as well charge, they said, upon a wall of steel.
But the line of the Scots which the enemy could not break was broken by victory. As they saw the English fly they rushed on in pursuit, and found themselves face to face with Warwick, the men-at-arms, and the Italian musketeers. Checked by the volleys of the matchlocks, and thrown into confusion, they were assailed next by the archers, and forced to cross the fire of the artillery; and the cavalry, once more forming, swept again upon their disordered lines, and drove the struggling mass back upon their comrades. Ill trained and undisciplined, the reserves were seized with panic; Arran and Huntley turned bridle and rode for their lives, and the whoops and yells of the Irish increased the terror; there was no thought of fighting more—it was only who could fly first and fly fastest. They flung away their arms: swords, pikes, and lances strewed the ground where they had been drawn up, 'as thick,' it was said, 'as rushes in a chamber.'[1] Some crept under the willow pollards in the meadows, and lay concealed like otters with their mouths above the water; some made for Edinburgh, some along the sands to Leith under the fire of the fleet,
- ↑ Holinshed, from the account of an eye- witness.
