continued still so dense and mirk, that his foe itself--for Somerset
had prudently drawn back to re-form his disordered squadron--seemed
vanished from the field. Halting now, as through the dim atmosphere
came from different quarters the many battle-cries of that feudal-day,
by which alone he could well estimate the strength or weakness of
those in the distance, his calmer genius as a general cooled, for a
time, his individual ferocity of knight and soldier. He took his
helmet from his brow to listen with greater certainty; and the lords
and riders round him were well content to take breath and pause from
the weary slaughter.

The cry of "Gloucester to the onslaught!" was heard no more. Feebler
and feebler, scatteringly as it were, and here and there, the note had
changed into "Gloucester to the rescue!"

Farther off rose, mingled and blent together, the opposing shouts, "A
Montagu! a Montagu! Strike for D'Eyncourt and King Edward!"--"A Say!
A Say!"

"Ha!" said Edward, thoughtfully, "bold Gloucester fails, Montagu is
bearing on to Warwick's aid, Say and D'Eyncourt stop his path. Our
doom looks dark! Ride, Hastings,--ride; retrieve thy laurels, and
bring up the reserve under Clarence. But hark ye, leave not his
side,--he may desert again! Ho! ho! Again, 'Gloucester to the
rescue!' Ah, how lustily sounds the cry of 'Warwick!' By the flaming
sword of Saint Michael, we will slacken that haughty shout, or be
evermore dumb ourself, ere the day be an hour nearer to the eternal
judgment!"

Deliberately Edward rebraced his helm, and settled himself in his