Therefore, with those reckless cannons, brazen-mouthed,
and bellowing, two furlongs off, or it might be more
(and the more the merrier), I would have given that
year’s hay-crop for a bit of a hill, or a thicket
of oaks, or almost even a badger’s earth.
People will call me a coward for this (especially
when I had made up my mind, that life was not worth
having without any sign of Lorna); nevertheless, I
cannot help it: those were my feelings; and I
set them down, because they made a mark on me.
At Glen Doone I had fought, even against cannon, with
some spirit and fury: but now I saw nothing to
fight about; but rather in every poor doubled corpse,
a good reason for not fighting. So, in cold blood
riding on, and yet ashamed that a man should shrink
where a horse went bravely, I cast a bitter blame
upon the reckless ways of Winnie.
Nearly all were scattered now. Of the noble countrymen
(armed with scythe or pickaxe, blacksmith’s
hammer, or fold-pitcher), who had stood their ground
for hours against blazing musketry (from men whom they
could not get at, by reason of the water-dyke), and
then against the deadly cannon, dragged by the Bishop’s
horses to slaughter his own sheep; of these sturdy
Englishmen, noble in their want of sense, scarce one
out of four remained for the cowards to shoot down.
“Cross the rhaine,” they shouted out,
“cross the rhaine, and coom within rache:”
but the other mongrel Britons, with a mongrel at their
head, found it pleasanter to shoot men who could not
shoot in answer, than to meet the chance of mischief
from strong arms, and stronger hearts.
The last scene of this piteous play was acting, just
as I rode up. Broad daylight, and upstanding
sun, winnowing fog from the eastern hills, and spreading
the moors with freshness; all along the dykes they
shone, glistened on the willow-trunks, and touched
the banks with a hoary gray. But alas! those
banks were touched more deeply with a gory red, and
strewn with fallen trunks, more woeful than the wreck
of trees; while howling, cursing, yelling, and the
loathsome reek of carnage, drowned the scent of the
new-mown hay, and the carol of the lark.
Then the cavalry of the King, with their horses at
full speed, dashed from either side upon the helpless
mob of countrymen. A few pikes feebly levelled
met them; but they shot the pikemen, drew swords, and
helter-skelter leaped into the shattered and scattering
mass. Right and left they hacked and hewed; I
could hear the snapping of scythes beneath them, and
see the flash of their sweeping swords. How it
must end was plain enough, even to one like myself,
who had never beheld such a battle before. But
Winnie led me away to the left; and as I could not
help the people, neither stop the slaughter, but found
the cannon-bullets coming very rudely nigh me, I was
only too glad to follow her.
