Every soul in the garrison was reduced to
similar despair. Wallace even found means to dam up the spring which
had supplied the citadel with water. The common men, famished with
hunger, smarting with wounds, and now perishing with inextinguishable
thirst, threw themselves at the feet of their officers, imploring them
to represent to their royal governor that if he held out longer, he
must defend the place alone, for they could not exist another day under
their present sufferings.
The earl indeed repented the rashness with which he had thrown himself
unprovisioned into the citadel. He now saw that expectation was no
apology for want of precaution. When his first division had been
overpowered in the assault on the town, his evil genius then suggested
that it was best to take the second unbroken into the citadel, and
there await the arrival of a reinforcement by sea. But he thence
beheld the ships which had defended the harbor seized by Wallace before
his eyes. Hope was then crushed, and nothing but death or dishonor
seemed to be his alternatives. Cut to the soul at the consequences of
his want of judgment, he determined to retrieve his fame by washing out
that error with his blood.
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