‘_No quarter_,’ said he, with a shriek of despair. He snatched his sword, which I held in my hand, and made a lounge at my breast. I parried his blows till he was nearly exhausted; but, gathering up his huge limbs, he put forth all his energy in a thrust at my heart.--My Andro Ferrara received it, so as to weaken its deadly force; but it made a deep cut. Though I was faint with loss of blood, I left him no time for another blow. My sword glanced on his shoulder, cut through his buff coat, and skin, and flesh; swept through his jaw, and laid open his throat from ear to ear. The fire of his ferocious eye was quenched in a moment. He reeled, and falling with a terrible clash, he poured out his soul with a torrent of blood on the heath. I sunk down, insensible for a moment. My faithful men, who never lost sight of me, raised me up. In the fierce combat, the soldier suffers most from thirst. I stooped down to fill my helmet with the water which oozed through the morass. It was deeply tinged with human blood, which flowed in the conflict above me. I started back with horror; and Gawn Witherspoon bringing up my steed, we set forward in the tumult of the battle. All this while, the storm of war had raged on our left. Cleland and the fierce Burley had charged the strong company sent to flank them. These officers permitted me to cross the swamp, then, charged them with a terrible shout. ‘_No quarter_,’ cried the dragoons. ‘Be _no quarter_ to you, then, ye murderous loons,’ cried Burley; and at one blow he cut their leader through the steel cap, and scattered his brains on his followers. His every blow overthrew a foeman. Their whole forces were now brought up, and they drove the dragoons of Clavers into the swamp. They rolled over each other. All stuck fast. The Covenanters dismounted, and fought on foot. They left not one man to bear the tidings to their Colonel. The firing of the platoons had long ago ceased, and the dreadful work of death was carried on by the sword. At this moment, a trumpet was heard in the rear of our army. There was an awful pause, all looked up. It was only the gallant Captain Nesbit, and his guide, Woodburn of Mains; he had no reinforcements for us, but himself was a host. With a loud huzza, and flourish of his sword, he placed himself by the side of Burley, and cried, ‘jump the ditch, and charge the enemy.’ He and Burley struggled through the marsh. The men followed as they could. They formed and marched on the enemy’s right flank. At this instant, Hamilton and Hackstone brought forward the whole line of infantry in front. ‘_God and our Country_’ re-echoed from all the ranks--‘_No quarters_’ said the fierce squadrons of Clavers.--Here commenced a bloody scene.