n Nicholas Alwyn cried, in his shrill voice and
northern accent, "Out on you! What will the girls say of us in East-gate
and the Chepe? Hurrah for the bold hearts of London! Round me, stout
'prentices! let the boys shame the men! This shaft for Cockaigne!" And
as the troop turned irresolute, and Alwyn's arrow left his bow, they saw
a horseman by the side of Warwick reel in his saddle and fall at once
to the earth; and so great evidently was the rank of the fallen man that
even Warwick reined in, and the charge halted midway in its career.
It was no less a person than the Duke of Exeter whom Alwyn's shaft had
disabled for the field. This incident, coupled with the hearty
address of the stout goldsmith, served to reanimate the flaggers, and
Gloucester, by a circuitous route, reaching their line a moment after,
they dressed their ranks, and a flight of arrows followed their loud
"Hurrah for London Town!"

But the charge of Warwick had only halted, and (while the wounded Exeter
was borne back by his squires to the rear) it dashed into the midst of
the Londoners, threw their whole line into confusion, and drove them,
despite all the efforts of Gloucester, far back along the plain. This
well-timed exploit served to extricate the earl from the main danger of
his position; and, hastening to improve his advantage, he sent forthwith
to command the reserved forces under Lord St. John, the Knight of
Lytton, Sir John Coniers, Dymoke, and Robert Hilyard, to bear down to
his aid.

At this time Edward had succeeded, after a most stubborn fight, in
effecting a terrible breach through Somerset's wing; and the fog
continued still so dense and mirk, that his foe itself--for Somerset had
prudently drawn back to re-form his disordered squadron--seemed vanished
from the field. Halting now, as through the dim atmosphere came from
different quarters the many battle-cries of that feudal-day, by which
alone he could well estimate the strength or weakness of those in
the distance, his calmer genius as a general cooled, for a time, his
individual ferocity of knight and soldier. He took his helmet from his
brow to listen with greater certainty; and the lords and riders round
him were well content to take breath and pause from the weary slaughter.

The cry of "Gloucester to the onslaught!" was heard no more. Feebler
and feebler, scatteringly as it were, and here and there, the note had
changed into "Gloucester to the rescue!"

Farther off rose, m