Ordering a few squadrons to observe and harass the fugitives, he
wheeled round on the flank of the royal infantry, and found them in
separate bodies, and in disorder, indulging in the confidence and license
of victory. Regiment after regiment was attacked and dispersed; but the
"white coats," a body of veterans raised by Lord Newcastle, formed in a
circle; and, whilst their pikemen kept the cavalry at bay, their

[Footnote 1: Sir Thomas Fairfax says that at first he put to flight part of
the loyal cavalry, and pursued them on the road to York. On his return he
found that the rest of his wing had been routed by the prince.--Fairfax,
438.]

musketeers poured repeated volleys into the ranks of the enemy. Had these
brave men been supported by any other corps, the battle might have been
restored; but, as soon as their ammunition was spent, an opening was made,
and the white coats perished, every man falling on the spot on which he had
fought.

Thus ended the battle of Marston Moor. It was not long, indeed, before
the royal cavalry, amounting to three thousand men, made their appearance
returning from the pursuit. But the aspect of the field struck dismay into
the heart of Rupert. His thoughtless impetuosity was now exchanged for an
excess of caution; and after a few skirmishes he withdrew. Cromwell spent
the night on the spot; but it was to him a night of suspense and anxiety.
His troopers were exhausted with the fatigue of the day; the infantry was
dispersed, and without orders; and he expected every moment a nocturnal
attack from Rupert, who had it in his power to collect a sufficient force
from the several corps of royalists which had suffered little in the
battle. But the morning brought him the pleasing intelligence that the
prince had hastened by a circuitous route to York. The immediate fruit
of the victory were fifteen hundred prisoners and the whole train of
artillery. The several loss of the two parties is unknown; those who
buried the slain numbered the dead bodies at four thousand one hundred and
fifty.[1]

This disastrous battle extinguished the power of the

[Footnote 1: For this battle see Rushworth, v. 632; Thurloe, i. 39;
Clarendon, iv. 503; Baillie, II, 36, 40; Whitelock, 89; Memorie of the
Somervilles, Edin. 1815. Cromwell sent messengers from the field to recall
the three generals who had fled. Leven was found in bed at Leeds about
noon; and having read the despatch, struck his breast, exclaiming, "I