And some who spurs had first braced on, And deemed that fight should see them won, King Edward's 'hest obey. De Argentine attends his side With stout De Valence-Pembroke's pride- Sunk banner, spear, and shield; Each weapon-point is downward bent. "The rebels, Argentine, repent! For pardon they have kneeled." Earl Gilbert waved his truncheon high, To halt and bend their bows. And raised his left hand high; Nor paused on the devoted Scot Forth whistling came the gray-goose wing Adown December's blast. Nor mountain targe of tough bull-hide, Upon the right, behind the wood, With foot in stirrup, hand on mane, Then, "Mount, ye gallants free!" He cried; and, vaulting from the ground, His saddle every horseman found. On high their glittering crests they toss, As springs the wild-fire from the moss; The shield hangs down on every breast, Each ready lance is in its rest. And loud shouts Edward Bruce"Forth, Marshal, on the peasant foe! We'll tame the terrors of their bow And cut the bowstrings loose!" Then spurs were dashed in chargers' flanks For those that wont to lead the dance, Pierced through, trod down, by thousands slain The king with scorn beheld their flight : But in mid-space the Bruce's care With blazing crests and banners spread, Down, down, in headlong overthrow, Of dying warriors swells on high, They broke like that same torrent's wave |