He had a bow bent in his hand, Made of a trusty tree, An arrow of a cloth-yard long Unto the head drew he. Against Sir Hugh Montgomery So right his shaft he set, The gray-goose wing that was thereon In his heart-blood was wet. This fight did last from break of day Till setting of the sun; For when they rung the ev'ning bell The battle scarce was done. One may observe, likewise, that in the catalogue of the slain, the author has followed the example of the greatest ancient poets, not only in giving a long list of the dead, but by diversifying it with little characters of particular persons. And with Earl Douglas there was slain Sir Hugh Montgomery, Sir Charles Carrel, that from the field One foot would never fly. Sir Charles Murrel of Ratcliff too, His sister's son was he; Sir David Lamb so well esteem'd, Yet saved could not be. The familiar sound in these names destroys the majesty of the description; for this reason I do not mention this part of the poem but to show the natural cast of thought which appears in it, as the two last verses look almost like a translation of Virgil. --_Cadit et Ripheus justissimus unus_ _Qui fuit in Teucris et servantissimus aequi_. _Diis aliter visum_. _AEn._ ii. 426. Then Ripheus fell in the unequal fight, Just of his word, observant of the right: Heav'n thought not so. DRYDEN. In the catalogue of the English who fell, Witherington's behaviour is in the same manner particularised very artfully, as the reader is prepared for it by that account which is given of him in the beginning of the battle; though I am satisfied your little buffoon readers, who have seen that passage ridiculed in "Hudibras," will not be able to take the beauty of it: for which reason I dare not so much as quote it. Then stept a gallant 'squire forth, Witherington was his name, Who said, "I would not have it told To Henry our king for shame, "That e'er my captain fought on foot, And I stood looking on." We meet with the same heroic sentiment in Virgil: _Non pudet_, _O Rutuli_, _cunctis pro talibus unam_ _Objectare animam_? _numerone an viribus aequi_ _Non sumus_? _AEn._ xii. 229 For shame, Rutilians, can you hear the sight Of one exposed for all, in single fight? Can we before the face of heav'n confess Our courage colder, or our numbers less? DRYDEN. What can be more natural, or more moving, than the circumstances in which he describes the behaviour of those women who had lost their husbands on this fatal day? Next day did many widows come Their husbands to bewail; They wash'd their wounds in brinish tears, But all would not prevail. Their bodies bathed in purple blood, They bore with them away; They kiss'd them dead a thousand times, When they were clad in clay.