“On Severn’s banks, in gladsome groups, In thoughtless mirth, the scatter’d troops Waste the free hour; some cast aside Their heavy harness; some divide With vigorous arm the opposing tide. Nor did the crested CHIEFTAINS scorn Their cumbrous helms aside to throw, And woo the freshness of the morn To fan each gallèd brow. And many a richly blazon’d shield Lay scatter’d on the dewy field. But the loud laugh, the song, the jest-- Blithe echoes of the careless breast-- Rose from the _humbler_ swarm; the rest, Though thrown aside their _outward_ gear, Did still their bosom-burthens bear!” “When the Queen,” continues the chronicle, “was come to Tewkesbury, and knew that Kinge Edward followed her with his horsemen at the very backe, she was sore abashed, and wonderfully amazed, and determined in herselfe to flie into Wales, to Jasper, Earle of Pembroke. But the Duke of Somerset willyng in no wise to flie backward, for doubts that he casted might chaunce by the way, determined there to tarrye to take suche fortune as God woulde sende.” When Oxford advised that, for another day at least, and until Pembroke’s reinforcements should have arrived, the Queen should not hazard a battle, where in point of numbers the chances were so much against her,--and added that if she did, her advisers would “think of it ere night,”-- “Not fight to-day!” cried Somerset: “Thy words would tempt me to forget That I have seen thee play a part Which vouches for thy manly heart. ‘Think on’t ere night!’ Why, what care I? ’Tis _now_ we’re call’d by Destiny! Yes, Oxford, I do hope thy sword, Ere this bright morn has pass’d away, Shall proudly contradict thy word-- Yes, Oxford, _we must fight to-day_!” This resolution having been confirmed by the sanction of the Queen; the Prince, her son, exclaims, in bitter remembrance of the field of Barnet, in which both the Nevils had perished-- “Is’t not time To close the scene of woe and crime! This hour _shall_ close it! Ne’er again Will I turn back from battle-plain A beaten fugitive! Ere Even With parting smile shall gild the west, This sword shall triumph win, or rest-- Victory on earth, or--peace in heaven.”