The conscience-stricken Richard Now kicks with greater force, Bears up, and plunges from his couch, Insisting on a horse; When, hearing from the village cock A blithe and early scream, He straightway recollects himself, And finds it all a dream. Now, on each side, the leaders Long for the battle's heat, But, by some luckless accident, The armies never meet; We hear them both alternately Talking extremely large, But never find them, hand to hand, Mixed in the deadly charge. "March on, my friends!" cries Richmond, "True tigers let us be; Advance your standards, draw your swords-- On, friends, and follow me!" 'Tis true, they follow him indeed, But then, the way they go Is just the way they're not at all Likely to meet the foe. So Richard, with his "soul in arms," Is "eager for the fray," But, with a hop, a skip, and jump, Runs off--the other way. He's to the stable gone, perchance, Forgetting, in his flurry, He has kept waiting all this time His clever cob, White Surrey. The brute is "saddled for the field," But never gains the spot, For on his way Death knocks him down In one--the common--lot. [Illustration: 342] Richard, a momentary pang At the bereavement feels; But, being thrown upon his hands, Starts briskly to his heels. And now the angry tyrant Perambulates the field, Calling on each ideal foe To fight him or to yield. "What, ho!" he cries, "Young Richmond! But, 'mid the noise of drums, Young Richmond doesn't hear him-- At least he never comes. Now louder, and still louder, Rise from the darken'd field The braying of the trumpets. The clang of sword and shields But shame upon both armies! For, if the truth be known, 'Tis not each other's shields they smite-- The clang is all their own; For six of Richmond's people Are standing in a row (Behind the scenes), and with their swords They give their shields a blow. Wild shouts of "Follow, follow!" Are raised in murmuring strain, To represent the slayer's rage, The anguish of the slain. But now, in stem reality, The battle seems to rage; For Catesby comes to tell the world How fiercely they engage. He gives a grand description, And says the feud runs high: We won't suppose that such a man Would stoop to tell a lie.