282 CWM BYCHAN. 



Our blades are wet with gore, 



The crescent flies, 



The Moslem dies, 

 The sanguine strife is o'er! 



Then away from the battle field we ride, 

 And our banners float on the azure tide, 

 As, with heart and voice, we raise on high 

 The shout of triumphant victory. 



Mortimer rose and looked out of the tent : all was still, save the 

 tread of the sentinel walking to and fro without the camp as he 

 gave the quick responsive " All's well" to the challenge of the 

 watch. 



Masses of dark clouds swept rapidly across the sky, obscuring for 

 a time the light of the moon, which ever and anon shone forth in 

 calm, majestic loveliness over the scene, silvering each woody slope 

 and dew-fringed leaf. There was not a breath of air stirring in the 

 valley ; but the floating rack and the distant murmurs from the 

 hills, shewed that the breeze was dancing merrily over the moun- 

 tain tops. All was hushed : the soldiers, as they lay around, some 

 under the slight covering of a tent, and some under the canopy of 

 heaven, were folded in the calm deep sleep of conscious security and 

 peace. 



After surveying the scene for some time, and refreshing his fever- 

 ish brow with the cooling air of night, he again threw himself on his 

 couch, and was soon lost to the sense of all external objects and 

 impressions : but his rest was doomed fearfully to be broken. Soon 

 fell on his ear the well-known cry of To arms, To arms. The ene- 

 my are upon us ! Defend yourselves ! He started instantly to his 

 feet, snatched his sword, and rushed out of the tent. The moon, 

 which had just emerged from a dense cloud, and now shone clear 

 and bright, shewed him a number of wild savage figures, half naked 

 or clothed in rough skins, armed with long knives, axes, and heavy 

 clubs, which they brandished with frightful outcries. This desperate 

 band had surrounded the camp and were now commencing the work of 

 slaughter. The inhuman yells of the Welsh, as they darted on their 

 victims, and the deep imprecations of the English as they sank be- 

 neath the weapons of their merciless foes, produced the most appall- 

 ing discords. 



The surprise was complete. Mortimer in vain endeavoured to 

 rouse the courage of his troops, and to rally them to resistance ; but 

 •they seemed paralvsed with the suddenness of the attack, and thus 



