With horrible threatenings, they came on, and by a rapid
movement surrounded Wallace and his little company. But his soul
brightened in danger, and his men warmed with the same spirit, stood
firm with fixed pikes, receiving without injury the assault. Their
weapons being longer than their enemy's, the Southrons, not aware of
the circumstance, rushed upon their points, incurring the death they
meant to give. Seeing their consequent disorder, Wallace ordered the
pikes to be dropped, and his men to charge sword in hand. Terrible was
now the havoc, for the desperate Scots, grapling each to his foe with a
fatal hold, let not go till the piercing shriek, or the agonized groan,
convinced him that death had seized its victim. Wallace fought in
front, making a dreadful passage through the falling ranks, while the
tremendous sweep of his sword, flashing in the intermitting light,
warned the survivors where the avenging blade would next descend. A
horrid vacuity was made in the lately thronged spot; it seemed not the
slaughter of a mortal arm, but as if the destroying angel himself were
there, and with one blast of his desolating brand, had laid all in
ruin.
Pages:
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309