Well fought, brave Mercians! On, my noble Mercians! (sinks down again.)
I am in darkness now! a clod o' the earth! (dies.)
(Britons without.) Fresh succour, Britons! courage! victory!
Carwallen and fresh succour!
(The Britons now raise a terrible yell and push back the Mercians, who yield ground and become spiritless and relaxed as their enemy becomes bolder. The Britons at last seize the Mercian standard, and raise another terrible yell, whilst the Mercians give way on every side.)
1st falling Mer. Horrour and death! the hand of wrath is o'er us!
2d falling Mer. A fell and fearful end! a bloody lair!
The trampling foe to tread out brave men's breath!
(The Britons yell again, and the Mercians are nearly beat off the stage.)
(Voice without.) Ethwald! the valiant Ethwald! succour, Mercians!
(Voice within.) Hear, ye brave comrades? Ethwald is at hand.
Enter Ethwald with his sword drawn.
Ethw. What, soldiers! yield ye thus, while vict'ry smiles
And bids us on to th' bent? Your northern comrades
Mock at their savage howls, and drive before them
These chafed beasts of prey. Come! to it bravely!
