during the Great Rebellion. 



303 



Wept in woe that God, in anger, low on earth their pride had laid — 

 Prayed in faith that God, in mercy, soon would bring them grace and aid ; 

 And beside her knelt her daughters, Margaret, Jane, and Dorothy, 

 Pouring aye their Be profundis, and Memento Domine. 



"With the morn she called the trooper — ' Will of Langley, speak, and say 

 How the fight was lost— who perished — who survive the deadly fray.' 



Then he spake : — ' Sir James had mustered round him all our Wiltshire pride ; 

 Eyre of Chalfield, Smith of Bedwyn, both the Seymours, Webb and Hyde, 

 Wyndham, Grove, Penruddock, Ernlejr, Goddard with the Swindon troop, 

 Hunt of Enford, Hall, and Estcourt, Talbot, Grandison, and Scrope. 

 Tuesday eve we reached Devizes ; lay all nigbt on Roundway Down ; 

 Yestermorn, in storm and darkness, Waller burst into the town. 

 Ride to westward,' came our orders, 'hopeless strife and bloodshed spare'— 

 It were vain for our four hundred twice a thousand horse to dare. 

 But retreat was rout disastrous ; heaven poured down a drenching rain, 

 Vehement lightnings flashed incessant, blasts impetuous swept the plain. 

 Worn with former fight and foray, we were weary, man and steed ; 

 Yet we rode, the foe behind us pressing close with breathless speed ; 

 Many a mile we galloped westward, battling still with blast and storm ; 

 When the Sheriff shouted wildly, ' Foes before us ! — halt and lorm ! ' 



Scarce he spoke, when down the highland, where they lay in ambuscade, 



Fresh with rest, and hot in vengeance, thundered Waller's fierce brigade. 



Instant as we met, they crushed us by their weight of men and mail ; 



Down we went in wild confusion, driven like leaves before a gale. 



Steed and rider, fallen together, on the ground together lay ; 



Trampled, mangled 'neath the horsehoofs, choked with blood, and mire and clay, 



Splashing, plunging o'er the ploughlands, fighting still, as still they fled, 



Every mile our troopers yielded, wearied, wounded sore, or dead. 



Webb, Penruddock, Eyre were taken, Talbot wounded, Wyndham slain ; 



I beside Sir James was riding when a trooper seized his rein ; 



At a blow his wrist I severed ; but the pause was fatal — round 



Closed the foemen, and the Sheriff fell unhorsed upon the ground. 



Needs it not I tell thee, Lady, how thy lord, in valorous might, 



Rose, and cleared a path before him, till his hand no more could smite ; 



How we stood, and rallied o'er him, fiercely fought, and freely bled, 



Till they bore him off triumphant, and we turned again, and fled. 



Pressing on, we knew not whither, all was rout, and dire distress — 

 But the foemen's chace grew slacker, as we grew in number less : 

 From the daydawn to the even we that race of death had run, 

 And a miserable remnant halted with the setting sun. 

 Faint with hunger, bruised and bleeding, fearing still to cross the foe, 

 Yet I rode to tell thee, Lady, all the tale of tears and woe. 

 Now I would no longer tarry — Lady, give me leave to go — 

 Weary nature asks reposing — Honour sternly answers, 1 No ! ' 

 Fare thee well ! To certain danger, I return, perchance to death ; 

 Let it be ! — my life I render gladly to my latest breath ; 

 Gladly of my warmest heart's-blood, if the need be, I will drain 

 For my monarch and my master every drop in every vein." 



