The Fall of Cambria in Twenty-Four Books by Joseph Cottle. Second Edition |
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| I. | BOOK I. |
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| XXI. |
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 | The Fall of Cambria in Twenty-Four Books |  |
BOOK I.
SCENE, Edward and his Army approaching Chester.By the first Edward, England's Lord, I sing.
As Edward, pride of the Plantagenet,
With earnest step, and purpose resolute,
Toward Cambria's realm urged on his veteran bands.
In all the pomp of war, as thus they march,
Seeking renown, the King, with cheering smile,
Pauses, and, with a backward glance, surveys,
Along the vale, pennons and plumes draw near,
With glittering helmets; and, upon the hills,
Far distant, still, the warrior multitude,
Till the dim object, fading, died away.
Swell Edward's heart, when he, so brave a host,
Impatient for the combat, saw advance,
Himself impatient;—heroes, clad in mail,
The waving banner, casque and hawberk bright,
Catching the radiance of the setting sun;
Joy, not sedate, was his, when to the fight,
Seeking Llewellyn, (his perpetual foe
The scourge of England) such a force he led,
Anticipating glory, and the fruit
Of that campaign, which promised, in its range
Of future blessings, concord permanent
'Tween rival nations, and, for him, the meed
Of ever-during fame!
Faintly shone forth, as in th' horizon peer'd,
Fronting their path, Chester's tall battlements.
Far off they rose, a cumbrous mass of shade,
Harmonious, in the beam of lingering day,
Which, in long lines of light, 'tween heaven and earth,
A glowing vista gave, dark clouds above,
With Nature's undistinguish'd forms beneath;
Whilst, in the region of the sky's calm verge,
Still beauteous in decay'd magnificence,
The summer lightning, at long intervals,
Burst harmless on the sight. The lofty towers,
(To which they hasten'd with a traveller's joy
Who spies his home at last, after long toil)
Now stand more manifest; the embrasured wall,
Increasing momently, whilst at each flash,
Which half disclosed the sapphire gates of heaven,
The castle rose, in radiant majesty,
Than crystal clearer, then, a little space,
Plunged into night, 'till o'er the canopy
Again the white glare burst. Nearer they draw;
When, from the crowded ramparts, a loud shout,
Triumphant, fill'd the air, friend greeting friend,
Which, Eve, from drowsy listlessness, aroused
Into keen vigilance, whilst Echo sent
Loud answers, from her wood-crown'd mountains round.
Dark and austere, whilst the barred windows, high,
Half hid in green, now throng'd with multitudes,
Uproar send forth. Entering, with hasty step,
New friends receive them: these with eager joy
And exultation, hail, at Chester's walls,
(Bent on new enterprize) their gallant prince,
So famed o'er Palestine, yea, to the verge
Of Indus, whilst Old Nile, flowing serene,
Down from his Libyan sands, spread as he flow'd
Th' achievements, by the English Hero wrought,
When the proud Soldan fled before the Cross.
Or rest restored the weary, firm of heart,
Barons and knights, clad in their iron coats,
Around their Royal Leader eager crowd;
Nor common spirit. Torches, burning bright,
Beam'd on the shining gorget, and the lance,
And burnish'd helm, and marshall'd cuirass, ranged
Round the huge walls:—habiliments revered
Of potent chieftains, men, in elder days,
For prowess famed, and chivalrous exploit,
Who, in their country's cause, fell nobly, here,
A sacred trust, preserved, to animate
What future race, England, in hour of need,
Rejoicing in her confidence, might call
Her guardian heroes. The Baronial Hall,
Thus sanctified by reverence of the great,
Fill'd with the blazing torch, thick scatter'd round,
Now shone resplendent. Every breathing chief,
From his broad chest, heaving the glittering mail,
The brightness wider spread; a dancing host
Of ever-changing and commingled lights,
Thro' which the armour of departed earls,
And puissant knights, and squires of high renown,
Sent their calm steady beam: e'en like the towers,
'Mid the Ægean (that, with friendly blaze
Warn the lone mariner, midnight around,
And storms appalling,) when, upon the waves,
The bright ray wantons, while the distant lamps
Amid the tumult, the wide-dancing glare,
Hold stedfast out, their calm effulgency.
Silent, and solemnized by all around,
Waiting some fresh disclosure of the war,
The valiant chiefs, defiance in their eye,
Edward, the lion on his spangled helm,
August, appear'd. A manly front was his,
Scarred in the warfare, yet, with lineament,
And eye, imperial; ensigns of a mind,
By more than fortune raised to eminence,
Where virtue reign'd and high-born purposes.
Whilst the tower bell, 'mid the still watch of night,
Upon the wind, his solemn tale sent forth,
Which at that hour, momentous, seem'd to strike
Each heart, tho' fearless, with mysterious awe,
The King, his hand upraising, thus began.
“Even Lisping Innocence (taught by the sounds
“Grateful and most familiar) utters forth,
“In its first dawn of language—at this hour,
“I hail you, dear to England and to Fame.
“Tho' to earth's farthest verge, your feats are known,
“And you your country's character have deck'd
“In honorable garb, and sent it forth
“Embalmed and fragrant, other path remains
“Fruitful of glory. To confirm your praise,
“Indelibly, I lead you to achieve
“One towering deed and arduous, which perform'd,
“Honor is your's and permanent renown.
“Europe, throughout her hundred warrior realms,
“With the bold Saracen, the Christian's shame,
“Have taught to tremble! yet, within our land,
“A people lives, a contumacious prince,
“False, furious, and intractable, whose lance
“Defies a hostile world, and whom our sires,
“Great as they were and valiant, oft in vain
“Essay'd to conquer. Insults unprovoked,
“Wrongs numberless, too long hath England borne
“From this vindictive man, this faithless race.
“Scarce hath the summer sun, thrice o'er our land
“Scatter'd profusion, since the Cambrian swore
“To sheath the sword; repress the robber band;
“Treaties respect, and our strong fortresses
“To honor, where the desolated March
“Marks the strong bound'ry: well, the Cambrian faith,
“O Chiefs, you know! Have not our bravest towers,
“Our firmest castles, fall'n, before the rage
“Of fierce Llewellyn—whom no law can bind,
“And whose replenish'd strength from darkness springs,
“We know not whence, to stigmatize our sword,
“So slow in falling?—now, it cometh down!
“With aggravated wrath the concave lours.
“Tho' late, with might resistless, Dinevawr
“We conquer'd, and, the Lords of Powis, doom'd
“To fall before us, where are the bless'd fruits?—
“Still in our front the hostile spear we see.
“Llewellyn then, vanquish'd, and destitute,
“Fled to his cavern'd heights, impregnable,
“'Mid Snowdon, when, O weak and vain! with one,
“Driven by necessity to his last point,
“Trusted, and let the tangled tiger loose,
“This hour to dare England's collected might.
“We have been wrong'd, insulted, scoffed upon!
“False men have dared to stand upon our soil,
“With their foul threats, to taint the air we breathe,
“And hurl defiance. Have we not a heart,
“Bold as our sires!—an arm as vigorous!—
“A lance as true? Have we our distant foes
“Conquer'd, and sent dismay thro' half the world,
“So great our deeds and matchless, now to view
“Spirits of puny frame, stand in our front,
“With lifted lance, nor mourn their hardihood?
“From us and from our sons and our sons sons.
“This shall not be. One path alone is ours.
“Warriors! to you, your country delegates
“No mean emprise. Honors, for you reserved,
“Hover around, of mightiest character.
“Renown, so long our friend, now hath uprais'd
“Her brazen trumpet, waiting to proclaim,
“That you have conquer'd Cambria's hardy race,
“Even men with iron hearts and limbs of steel,
“Who erst defied, whilst centuries waned away,
“The fierce-eyed Saxon, the remorseless Dane,
“The Norman, to whose powerful arm, alone,
“Even England stoop'd with all her multitude
“Of far-famed champions.—They were left for you!
“Spared, for this moment! You, your spears have seized,
“Resolved, in the recording page of time,
“To shine like meteors, worthy of your name,
“That never more shall slumber in its sheath,
“While foe survives, I vow, bold-hearted chiefs!
“To aid your high resolves—to lead you forth,
“Whence your aspiring spirits may return,
“Sated with conquests—yea with nobler fame—
“With having, for posterity, perform'd
“Great feats, which, in the end, our isle will raise
“In th' scale of nations, by combining hence
“(To meet the Foreign Foe,) her scatter'd sons,
“No more, with kindred blood, to stain the spear.
“These are our springs of action, first to scourge
“(For injuries unnumbered, unprovoked)
“And then to heal—a Nation's maladies.
“Half measures and half men are not for me!
“I swear to live, one object in my heart,
“Even t' unite, in one great brotherhood
“Cambria with England,—that the happy waves
“Which sport around our shore, may wash alone
“One Empire, soon ordained to lift her head
“Matchless in Glory. This th' auspicious day,
“When favouring time and circumstance are ours.
“Rejoice, O Subjects! Early as the dawn,
“Not even an hour's delay, I at your head,
“From Chester's towers, we march to victory!”
Throughout the place loud exultation reigns.
Concord who loved: a venerable man,
England's high Primate. He war's path pursued,
The angry bosom, and the fierce resolves
Of craving vengeance. Purposes of peace
He cherished, nor beheld, ever, the steel,
Unsheath'd and glittering, destined for the deeds
Of war and slaughter, but he, silently,
Like his great master, in his heart, exclaim'd,
“Put up thy sword!”
E'en from the Rude and Evil, he called forth;
For wheresoe'er he pass'd the eye that saw
Bless'd him, whilst e'en the man, who never pray'd
(Cheated to virtue, and from impulses,
Where the heart bursts the fetters of the will)
For him one prayer preferr'd. Hearing the shout
War utter'd loud, summoning all to join
The royal standard 'gainst the Cambrian Prince
Llewellyn, with the good man's earnestness
To stay the work of death, eager he sought
His steel-clad monarch, and with arguments,
Alike from Holy Writ and Reason's page,
Strove hard to quell the flame, bursting thus forth,
With threatnings dread. All unavailable
He saw and mourn'd the inflexible resolve.
When, now, the king, impatient of delay,
March'd toward the foe, he join'd his company,
Where, as he hoped, haply some path might rise,
Congenial, and that led to peaceful ends.
At this important and portentous hour,
And now before the baron and the knight,
Thus to his monarch spake.
“O, deem me not disloyal, while I speak
“What conscience urges, and the still small voice
“Of pity and compassion. Pause, O King!
“Hear thou, thy ancient friend and suppliant!
“Thy virtue and thy wisdom hazard not
“Upon a perilous path, haply unsound,
“Nor thus for distant and uncertain good
“Plunge into discord, and the Fiends of Strife
“Rouse from their slumber! Trembling I have heard
“This thy resolve, to ravage Cambria!—
“To pull, from his firm seat, down to the dust,
“Llewellyn, that unfaithful and fierce man.
“Edward! when thou on Asia's blood-red turf,
“Fighting against the stubborn Infidel,
“Kings in thy train, wast wounded, by the dart,
“Vengeance! O subjects. Rush upon the foe,
“And dye your swords!” Words gentler then were thine.
“Thou didst allay revenge which call'd for blood;
“With feelings, such as none but bravery owns,
“Thou, spakest, whilst admiring spirits heard,
“Warriors, let fury sleep. On pilgrimage,
“To the adored and holy Sepulchre,
“England's choice sons are gone. Till these return,
“Did Pity then, that seraph from on high,
“Whisper sweet words? Monarch, O hear her still!
“She speaks in me!—Before the unsheath'd sword
“Gleam in the sun, and fire and spreading waste,
“With fierce retaliation, on all sides,
“Mark, in their whirlwind sweep the course of war,
“Let Reason's voice be heard! Let me depart,
“First, to address Llewellyn, (in thy name,)
“With warning words, and such apt arguments,
“As to my mind seem meet. If he consent
“To terms of justice, and deplore the past,
“Indemnify thy charge, swear friendship true,
“And yield the hostage, more thou wilt not ask.
“If he refuse, then let the trumpet sound!”
“Father! tho', in my sight, no better man
“Walks 'mid the face of day, nor one whose word
“Might likelier change my purpose, yet, thy prayer,
“Now, do I spurn! Tho' on his bended knee,
“Above him Heaven, beneath him gaping Hell,
“Tho' to my sight, Llewellyn thus appeared,
“And with his blood sign'd fealty and remorse,
“I would not trust him! He hath pierced our land;
“Through all his track scattering dismay and death.
“With such a foe (these warriors by my side)
“I scorn to parley! Father, now no more.
“The hour is past.”
His aged cheeks, after a moment's pause,
The suppliant spake. “My gratitude, O King!
“That thou hast heard me, and, yet, once again,
“Wilt stoop to listen, vainly should I say.
“Few words are mine.
“War upward springs, his head with plumage wreath'd,
“Dress'd gorgeously, whilst round on all sides roll
“Concords, and notes melodious, and high words,
“Of valour, glory, fame, the multitude
“Hail his approach, nor, 'mid the tumult, hear
“The voice of anguish, the heart-rending sigh,
“The groan slow-drawn of hopeless wretchedness,
“Which, like the yielding element, surrounds
“This Idol Scourge from God. England's high Lord!
“Noble and merciful, when passion's storm
“Reason hath quell'd, pause ere thou raise the sword,
“Which, falling, like the thunder-bolt of Heaven,
“Whelming th 'aggressor and the innocent.
“Wert thou to see, even in the land of foes,
“The cottage, once the seat of happiness,
“And homely joys, rased by the blast of war;
“The peaceful mountain-flock, now shepherdless,
“Bleating and scatter'd; children asking loud,
“Of some lone, wild-eyed, ghastly traveller,
“Wringing in all the bitterness of grief,
“His upraised hand, heedless of all around,
“‘Where is my father? Shew me the same course
“My mother took, when from the warrior's sword
“She sought the mountains—I am here, alone,
“Hungry and naked.’ Could'st thou hear such words,
“Unmoved, and see such sights? Thy alter'd face
“Tells me, thou could'st not! Generous Potentate!
“These are the light and azure robes, which War,
“Sporting, puts on! In his vindictive hour,
“His garb is sable! On he strides, 'mid fields
“Of human gore, and thro' the midnight sky
“Shoots pestilence, whilst on his heels attend
“Hell's laughing brood, Rapine, and Flame, and Death!
“By all the tears and shrieks, the sighs and groans
“Of father, mother, maiden, orphan, friend,
“O Monarch! I conjure thee, send me first
“On embassy of peace. If I should fail,
“Unfurl the banner! Thou wilt then have done,
“For languishing humanity, one deed,
“Not hard, required of Heaven, and as thou goest
“I, in this mantle, muffling up my head,
“Will, weeping, list to the loud thunder-storm.”
Heaving the full deep sigh, thus answer made;
“My heart relents while reason still is firm.
“Well, Holy Father! be it as thou say'st.
“I cannot stem thy prayer. Thy voice to me,
“Hath a resistless charm. Thou wast of old
“My father's friend, my own in infancy,
“From whom my soul imbibed, whate'er of good
“Adorns a character, not pearly white,
“The guide, the solace of my tender years;
“Yea, since, oft tried, growing in faithfulness,
“And prized for every virtue man can boast.
“To shew thee still th' affection of my heart,
“Altho' my spirit groan, I will restrain
“The pang rebellious, and, till thy return,
“Wrong'd as I am, yea grievously betray'd,
“Sheath this my sword, and be a peaceful man.
“Speed to Llewellyn!” At his rival's name
Once more the tumult woke within his veins.
Again his bright eye kindled. “Go!” he cried,
“Yet more with threat than prayer. With aspect firm,
“Tell him, by mercy urged, I give him space,
“Which, unimproved, yea, should he hesitate,
“Whilst thro' the stars the shooting meteor flies,
“He, like his soul-dissolving sires of old,
“In his last hour, shall cry—‘The furious foe
“Urges us back to death or manacles.’
“Thou know'st my secret thoughts, how I aspire,
“With vehemence of spirit, to unite,
“For th' good of after ages, for our own,
“Cambria with England. Fathom thou his will!
“Make him bold offers, Albion's throne alone
“In thy wide sphere of gifts, reserve for me.
“Ah! words of impotence. His heart will spurn
“All thou canst say: yea, an arch-angel's tongue
“On him would waste its choicest eloquence.
“Tho' hopeless Father! speed thou on thy course.
“We will pause here awhile, counting the hours.
“Heaven be thy guide.” The good man, bending low,
(His utterance flown) pressing his aged breast,
With saint-like smile, slow from the King retired.
Com'st forward, whilst all eyes attracted gaze?—
Warwick's stout Earl! Fast to the King he speeds,
Who thus address'd him. “Baron, brave and bold,
“With other chiefs, all panting for the fight,
“Welcome at Chester!” Warwick loud replied,
(No vestibule to his impetuous speech.)
“Pledged his fair daughter, Eleanor de Montford,
“To Cambria's Prince Llewellyn, (even him,
“Whom now we seek.) When the rebellious Earl
“Fell, justly punished, to the Gallic shore,
“The mother, with this maid of tender years,
“Fearful of danger, fled precipitate.
“Now mark my words. Llewellyn, for his bride,
“Anxious, as well might be, late, sent a bark
“To bear her safely to the Cambrian shore.
“Two ships from Brystow (that illustrious town
“For worth and loyalty, and every deed
“Befitting tender heart; where virtue thrives
“And generous impulses, while all that soothes
“And purifies the spirit, rises round;—
“A rampart of divinest hills and trees,
“Rivers and rocks.) Two ships from Brystow's town,
“On traffic bent, o'ertook the British bark
“Bearing De Montford, near where Scilly's Isles
“The sinking enemy, resigned her charge,
“And 'mid the rest, this damsel. On my troth,
“Tho' never a friend to Leicester, or his cause,
“A fairer maid than Eleanor, these eyes
“(From young eighteen down to this sober hour,
“Watchful of beauty,) never yet beheld.
“Her neck is snow, her eye the laughing dove,
“Her cheek the white rose blended with the red,
“Her air, a goddess. When she smiles, a saint
“Might cast side his rosaries and his cross,
“Almost, unblamed, and turn idolater.
“Yet, all without, naught to the purity
“And soul-erected eminence within.
“The maiden's fancied dangers and dismays,
“The pleading tears she shed, her sad lament,
“Her warm solicitude, raised all her charms
“To the consummate point of excellence,
“On earth, naught higher! On a baron's word,
“I wish some colder eye had witness'd it,
“Warwick far off. At thy command, O King,
“From Brystow, my abode, hither I haste,
“With no mean warrior band, anxious to prove
“My zeal and valour in this new campaign,
“When, as an eagle pounces on his prey,
“England on Cambria darts her fang of steel.
“While hast'ning here I placed the captive maid
“With Talbot's Earl, safe in old Glocester's Tower.
“There is another tale. Brief are my words.
“She had a brother, the young Amoury,
“Generous as brave. From Gallia sailing thus,
“All gay around, it was a mournful thing,
“When the young pair, so full of pleasant dreams,
“Saw themselves prisoners. Each the other bade
“Fear not, but hope the best, tho' both the while
“Were sad and sorrowful, concealing ill,
“By the forced smile, the pang which reign'd within.
“The Captain, a bleak-hearted mariner,
“Mammon accurs'd, finding De Montford's heir,
“And this his daughter, both alike proscribed,
“With ice in every vein, reason'd austere,
“And planned harsh things. He deem'd that they might plot
“Means of escape, or treasons, and ordained,
“With wantonness of folly and of crime,
“That they in different ships, homeward, should sail;
“And when they parted them, it needed breasts
“Of iron frame, to see the sight unmoved.
“Tears, sighs and looks, and pitiful laments,
“Pleaded in vain. Unlike the hardy men,
“(Rough but humane, uncourtly but sincere)
“Who live among the billows, at the scene,
“So melting, this soul-withered mariner
“Compunction felt not. He, on future gains,
“Ponder'd, calm looking on. The twain, by force,
“Full in his sight, asunder now are rent,
“(The heart reviling what the hands perform'd,)
“Whilst many a silent tear was shed: and now
“Each at the other looks, till far away,
“Of the poor youth, for at the even tide,
“A storm came on, and, in a woeful hour
“(Still to the maid unknown) the ship which held
“Young Amoury, sunk and was seen no more.”
“Had he survived, his king might have reclaim'd,
“By kindness his rude spirit of revolt.
“This mariner, instant the wars are o'er,
“I will hang up, high as the steeple tower.
“Who pity feels not, pity shall have none.
“But why in Glocester leave fair Eleanor?
“Altho' her sire a traitor, yet our arms
“War not with maidens “One so much admired,
“Shaming Eve's daughters, all of mortal mould,
“I have some wish to see. Speed for her, Earl!
“Our ravish'd sight, bless with her countenance.”
Abash'd at the command, nor without fears,
Nor self-upbraidings, for his forward speech,
Bending profound, in silence, Warwick turn'd
To seek the damsel, and her steps conduct
Safe thitherward, when Edward sudden spake,
“Brave Earl, attend! Beauteous thou say'st she is,
“A gem! A paragon! By vows betroth'd
“To one, and he, an enemy—Withhold!
“I will not see her! Where the maiden dwells,
“(Till in our mind the path of honor rise)
“There let her rest! the Virtues tending her,
“And Heaven her stay!”
Smiled as he spake: “Sworn to true courtesy!
“A gallant knight!” each to himself exclaim'd,
When thus to Warwick's Earl, Edward, again.
“(An embassy now to Llewellyn sent)
“I pause at Chester. In the face of war
“Edward feels confidence, that spear like thine
“Gleams 'mid his ranks, yet, learn our sudden thought.
“Instant I deem it needful, for some chief
“Of tried fidelity, and courage stern,
“To haste toward southern Cambria. Noble Earl!
“Awhile thy high-prized presence I renounce.
“Speed to Sabrina's stream! and where she rolls
“Her rapid billow to the rocky shore,
“Await our summons! Should our embassy
“Leave aught to wish, pass thou the Severn tide,
“March on thro' Dinevawr; let Powis feel
“The weight of Warwick's arm—yet, gallant Earl,
“Spare thou the unresisting; let war fall
“Light on the cottage and the sons of peace.—
“Good Baron, pardon me; thou needest not,
“Cautions and arguments, cold as night frosts,
“To win thy spirit to the brave man's part;
“I do thy pardon crave, once and again,
“That, in th' excursive vacancy of thought,
“I, thee, should urge, where thou art prompt to lead,—
“E'en in Humanity's fair step to walk,
“And worship her, and prove her duteous child!—
“The wanton blow will spare, and whilst we wound,
“(Needful in honor's cause,) with th' other hand,
“From Misery's cheek, will wipe the falling tear,
“Now haste! Prosperity attend thy path!”
Placed, and to earth bent lowly and retired.
Again the loud bell told the waning hour!
“Edward, who followed King Henry in wearing the English erown, but far outwent him in all regal vertues, was abroad at the time of his Father's death, still pursuing his high desires, for the Holy Warres. King Lewis of France, whose perswations had inflamed this noble-spirited Prince to associate him in this glorious quarrell, having first set forth with the enterprise, lay now, in siege of Tunis in Africa, where Prince Edward, with all his forces arriving; the French King (greatly rejoicing in his wished presence) together with the King of Navarre, and other Princes of his Army, went forth to meet him. This place which they beleaguered was not great, but by reason of the situation it greatly impeaded the Christians in their passage through those seas; being built of the scattered ribs and wasted ruines of the mighty and famous City of Carthage. After sharp reinforcement of the seige (where Edward gave frequent proofe of his valour and prudence) capitulations were granted to the Saracens, contrary to Edward's mind, being wholly set to subdue, convert or root them out. This enterprise was supported also, by Charles, King of Sicily.
The Seige was thus raised, to the grief and indignation of Edward, who would not partake nor share in any of the Treasures which by reason of the truce was payed by the Saracens, as accounting it to be wickedly gotten, and contrary to the tenor of the vow, which for the honour and advancement of Christian Religion had beene made.” In consequence of this dissention between the King of France and Prince Edward, the French King renounced his intention of proceeding with Edward to Palestine, and immediately returned toward Europe, with all the wealth obtained from the Saracens, in which voyage however, nearly the whole French Army perished in a storm, “together with the impious Treasure brought from Tunis.” But Prince Edward nothing daunted, swore, “that although all his Companions in arms and Countrymen should abandon him, yet he, and Fowin, his Lackey, would enter into Acres, and keep the vow which he had made while soul and body held together.” The English promised with one heart to accompany their Prince, when setting sail, they arrived at Acres, “about four daies before the City should have beene yeelded up to the Sultan of Babylon, head of the Saracens, but from which precipitation these succours out of England withheld it.” —Speed.
“When the Christians understood of this cursed assault upon the person of so renowned a Prince, they meant forthwith to have invaded the Pagans wheresoever; but the Prince whose first care was for the safety of Christians, said “I forbid you on the behalf of God, that none of you yet presume to infest the Pagan Armie, because many of our People are gone to visite the holy Sepulchre, who shall every one of them be murthered by the Saracens, if they shall now sustaine any (though but small) vexation at our hands.”—Speed.
“The Arch Bishop of Canterbury, after he had visited his whole province, considering the great warres, betweene the King and Leoline, he travelled for the appeasing thereof, first to the King, and then to the Prince being at Snowdon.”—Stow.
After Prince Edward had escaped from Simon De Montford, Earl of Leicester, the Earl issued the most peremptory orders to all the King's subjects (Henry III. being still in his hands) to oppose to the utmost of their power, Prince Edward, the Earl of Gloucester, and their adherents. who were all stiled Traitors to the King and State. “But notwithstanding this, many barons, officers and soldiers, came and offered their service to the Prince, who, in a short time, saw himself at the head of an army, superior to that of the confederates. Then it was that affairs began to have a new face. The Earl of Leicester, who, a little time before, had all the forces of the kingdom at his disposal, could not prevent Edward from becoming master of Gloucester and several other places. He was even forced to give ground to that young Prince, who followed him from place to place, and to use all his policy and experience in order to avoid a battle. As he was a very good General, he took timely care to post himself so as to be able to retreat, whenever he should be pressed. Mean while, he sent repeated orders to his Son Simon, to quit the siege of Pevensey, which detained him in Kent, and come and reinforce him. Simon obeyed, and with his little army began to march with extraordinary expedition, to join him. But as he drew near Evesham, where his Father was encamped, Edward having notice of his coming, suddenly fell upon him with all his forces, and cut in pieces this little body, which could not resist him.
“This victory animating the young Prince with fresh ardour, he immediately returned to attack the Father, before he had received the news of his Son's defeat. He so deceived the watchfulness of the old General, by this sudden resolution, that he was very near the enemy, when the Earl imagined it was his Son coming to his assistance. Leicester's surprize was so great that he could not help shewing it. However, he put every thing in a good posture of defence, perceiving that a retreat would be still more dangerous than a battle. The fight began about two in the afternoon, and lasted till night. He sustained, by his courage and conduct, the efforts of Edward, who fought with an astonishing valour, well knowing that the good or ill fortune of his life depended on the success of that day. At length, after a long resistance on the side of the Barons, the Earl of Leicester and his Son Henry being slain on the spot, their troops were disheartened, and the Prince obtained a full and complete victory. His joy at this success was the greater, as, during the heat of the battle, he had the satisfaction to deliver the King his Father, from the captivity he had been in ever since the battle of Lewes.” —Rapin.
“When Leolin came to have the government of Wales, he sent unto Philip King of France requiring of him that he might have in marriage the Ladie Eleanor, Daughter to Simon Montford, Earl of Leicester. The French King granted his request and sent her under the conduct of her brother Amoury, to be conveyed into Wales to Leolin; but ere they approached to Wales, at the Isles of Sillie, both the Brother and Sister were taken prisoners by some Ships of Brystow.”—Holinshed.
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