 | Francis the First |  |
SCENE III.
—BATTLE-FIELD.Alarums.—Enter Bourbon and Pescara.
PESCARA.
Oh, what a glorious conflict rages there!
Our breaking of their lines, and swift pursuit,
Have ta'en the breath from off my lips, but more
With joy than weariness.
BOURBON.
Oh, brave, my lions!
Hark! how they roar! see how their bristling line
Drives back King Francis and his chevaliers!
Come, come, Pescara, come, my blood's on fire!
PESCARA.
Art sure that Leyva will keep his word,
135
Their rear guard?
BOURBON.
I've his oath; and art thou sure,
That thou didst to the troops enjoin to spare
King Francis' life?
PESCARA.
Certain: they'd sooner turn
Their swords on thee or me, than upon him.
BOURBON.
Then follow, follow back into the fight!
Follow! and shout Bourbon! for Spain and vengeance!
[Exeunt.
Alarums.—Enter, in great disorder, Alençon, Chabannes, and some troops.
ALENÇON.
No pow'r on earth can rally them again!
They fly, they fly! Oh, miserable day!
Where is the king?
CHABANNES.
Yonder, in the mèlèe.
Seest not his white plume, dabbl'd all with gore,
Floating upon the tide of battle? Hell
Rides on the sulph'rous clouds that shroud the field,
And death riots beneath!
ALENÇON.
Where's Bonnivet?
CHABANNES.
Cut down, with his whole troop. Th'accursed Spaniard,
Leyva, did, as he rush'd on to the charge,
136
Th'enraged and hungry garrison that we
So long have pent within their city walls;
These fell upon De Bonnivet's small band,
And made such havoc as wild beasts alone,
Or starving savages, should make.
ALENÇON.
But, come—
Once more into the field; and, if all hope
Be lost of rallying our broken host,
Let us, around our gallant king, make stand,
And fight ourselves to death!
[Exeunt.
| Francis the First | |