His cry had touched the right place in the hearts of his followers. Forgetting every thought but that of victory and the rescue of their beloved leader, they pushed after him in a gallant and irresistible charge, which resembled in its impetuosity that of the Black Prince at Poitiers. Mayenne's thronging horsemen wavered and broke before this impetuous rush. Into the heart of the opposing army rode Henry and his ardent followers, cutting, slashing, shouting in victorious enthusiasm. In a few minutes the forward movement of Mayenne's cavalry was checked. His troops halted, wavered, broke, and fled, hotly pursued by their foes. The battle was won. That rush of the white plume had carried all before it, and swept the serried ranks of the Leaguers to the winds. Let us quote the poetic rendition of this scene from Macaulay's ode. "Hurrah! the foes are moving! Hark to the mingled din Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum And roaring culverin! The fiery duke is pricking fast Across St Andre's plain, With all the hireling cavalry Of Gueldres and Almayne. 'Now by the lips of those ye love, Fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the golden lilies, Upon them with the lance!' A thousand spurs are striking deep, A thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close Behind a snow-white crest, And in they burst, and on they rushed, While, like a gliding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed The helmet of Navarre." The enemy's cavalry being in flight and hotly pursued, Henry with a handful of horsemen (he had but thirty at his back when he came out of the melee) charged upon the Walloons and Swiss, who instantly broke and fled, with such impetuous haste that they left their standards behind them. "Slay the strangers, but spare the French," was the king's order, as a hot pursuit of the flying infantry began, in which the German auxiliaries in particular were cut down mercilessly. "And then we thought on vengeance, And all along our van, 'Remember St. Bartholomew!' Was passed from man to man. But out spake gentle Henry, 'No Frenchman is my foe; Down, down with every foreigner, But let your brethren go.'" The Swiss, however, ancient friends and allies of France, begged the king's compassion and were admitted to mercy, being drafted into his service. The flying Germans and French were severely punished, great numbers of them falling, many more being taken, the list of prisoners including a large number of lords and leaders of the foe. The battle had been remarkably short. It was won by the cavalry, the infantry having scarcely come into action. As to its effect, we may quote again from the poem.