ue which he had
undergone, had made him incapable of bodily or mental exertion. Of the
last forty hours he had passed thirty-five on horseback. Schomberg, who
might have supplied his place, was no more. It was said in the camp that
the King could not do every thing, and that what was not done by him was
not done at all.

The slaughter had been less than on any battle field of equal importance
and celebrity. Of the Irish only about fifteen hundred had fallen; but
they were almost all cavalry, the flower of the army, brave and well
disciplined men, whose place could not easily be supplied. William
gave strict orders that there should be no unnecessary bloodshed,
and enforced those orders by an act of laudable severity. One of his
soldiers, after the fight was over, butchered three defenceless Irishmen
who asked for quarter. The King ordered the murderer to be hanged on the
spot, [701]

The loss of the conquerors did not exceed five hundred men but among
them was the first captain in Europe. To his corpse every honour was
paid. The only cemetery in which so illustrious a warrior, slain in arms
for the liberties and religion of England, could properly be laid
was that venerable Abbey, hallowed by the dust of many generations
of princes, heroes and poets. It was announced that the brave veteran
should have a public funeral at Westminster. In the mean time his corpse
was embalmed with such skill as could be found in the camp, and was
deposited in a leaden coffin, [702]

Walker was treated less respectfully. William thought him a busybody who
had been properly punished for running into danger without any call of
duty, and expressed that feeling, with characteristic bluntness, on the
field of battle. "Sir," said an attendant, "the Bishop of Derry has been
killed by a shot at the ford." "What took him there?" growled the King.

The victorious army advanced that day to Duleek, and passed the warm
summer night there under the open sky. The tents and the baggage waggons
were still on the north of the river. William's coach had been brought
over; and he slept in it surrounded by his soldiers. On the following
day, Drogheda surrendered without a blow, and the garrison, thirteen
hundred strong, marched out unarmed, [703]

Meanwhile Dublin had been in violent commotion. On the thirtieth of June
it was known that the armies were face to face with the Boyne between
them, and that a battle was almost inevitable. The news that William