The King and Surrey, who led the centres of their respective armies, were now engaged in close and doubtful conflict. James, surrounded by the flower of his kingdom, supported by the reserve under the Earl of Borthwick, but impatient and exasperated by the galling discharge of arrows from the English bowmen, made his attack with such impetuosity that the standard of Surrey was in imminent danger. But at that critical moment Stanley, who had routed the Scottish wing on the left, and was now pursuing his career of victory, arrived on the right flank in the rear of the king’s division, which, [Illustration] by throwing itself into a circle, disputed the battle till night closed in upon them. Surrey then drew back his forces; for the Scottish centre remaining unbroken, and their left wing being victorious, he yet doubted the event of the field, for in the words of the poet-- “The stubborn spearmen still made good Their dark impenetrable wood Each stepping where his comrade stood The instant that he fell; No thought was there of dastard flight; Link’d in the serried phalanx tight Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, As fearlessly and well.” The Scottish army, however, dispirited by the loss of their king and his principal chiefs, abandoned the field before day-break, with a loss of between eight and ten thousand men--among whom were the very prime of their nobility, gentry, and even clergy.--Here the reader is referred to Pinkerton. Surrey’s loss was also very great; perhaps within one-third of the vanquished; but those who fell were only men of inferior note. According to the old ballad, there perished-- “Never a nobleman of fame But Bryan Tunstall bold, alas! Whose corse home to his burial came, With worship great, as worthy was.” The trophies of this victory were received by King Henry under the walls [Sidenote: 1524. {] of Tournay, to which he had laid siege; and every honour which could testify the royal satisfaction, or gratify a victorious commander, was subsequently conferred on the hero of the day. He was restored to the dukedom of Norfolk, acquired immense possessions, filled the highest offices of state, lived in princely splendour at the royal castle of Framlingham, and died at the age of eighty; leaving a numerous family to support his dignities, and share his vast possessions. He was the last of the Dukes of Norfolk buried in the Abbey of Thetford. Her eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was the mother of Anne Boleyn, who fell a victim to the very hand which heaped so many honours upon her uncle and his sons. The Duke himself presided as High Steward at her trial; and even her father, “reluctantly it is to be hoped, sat among the judges.”