Many of the raw levies on the English side fled at the first sound of the Scottish cannon; but the master of the ordnance, Lord Sinclair, was killed, and his guns silenced. Then the battle joined, and the first result was that the English right wing under Sir Edmund Howard was scattered and broken before the impetuous charge of the Gordons and Highlanders under the Earl of Huntley and Lord Home. Sir Edmund narrowly escaped with his life; but Lord Dacre bringing up his reserve of horsemen at that moment checked the further advance of the Scots. The two central divisions of the armies engaged each other fiercely, the Earl of Surrey, with his son Sir Thomas Howard commanding the English centre, and King James, with the Earls of Crawford and Montrose that of the Scots. Sir Thomas, after having been so hard pressed as to send the Agnus Dei he wore to his father as a signal for help, afterwards with Sir Marmaduke Constable defeated the Earl of Crawford, whose division was opposed to him. Dacre and Sir Thomas now charged Lord Home and drove him some little way back, but could not dislodge his men entirely from their position. The Earl of Bothwell, who commanded the Scottish reserves, now came up to the help of the king, and the day seemed about to be decided in favour of the Scots, when Lord Stanley, on the English left, exactly reversed the fortunes of the right wing, and scattered and routed the Highlanders led by the Earls of Lennox and Argyle. Then with his Lancashire lads he attacked the rear of the Scottish position, as did also Dacre and Sir Thomas Howard.

“They saw Lord Marmion’s falcon fly,
And stainless Tunstall’s banner white
And Edmund Howard’s lion bright
All bear them bravely in the fight,
Although against them come
Of gallant Gordons many a one,
And many a stubborn Highlandman,
And many a rugged Border clan
With Huntly and with Home.
Far on the left, unseen the while,
Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle.”

Nothing now remained for the Scottish centre, hemmed in on all sides, but to make a stubborn last stand; and gallantly did they do it. The flower of Scotland’s chivalry surrounded their brave monarch, and in the falling dusk fought desperately to guard their king.

“No thought was there of dastard flight;
Linked in that serried phalanx tight,
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,
As fearlessly and well.
The stubborn spearmen still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood,
Each stepping where his comrade stood
The instant that he fell.”

As night fell, the fierce struggle continued until the darkness made it impossible to see friend or foe, but the fate of Scotland’s bravest was sealed. The king lay dead, covered with wounds, and around him a heap of slain; those who were able made their way in haste from the field, while the English host encamped where it stood. The more lawless in each army plundered both sides impartially, and when the king’s body was found next day, it too was stripped like many others around it.

“Then did their loss his foemen know,
Their king, their lords, their mightiest low,
They melted from the field as snow
Dissolves in silent dew.
Tweed’s echoes heard the ceaseless plash
While many a broken band,
Disordered, through its currents dash
To gain the Scottish land;
To town and tower, to down and dale,
To tell red Flodden’s dismal tale,
And raise the universal wail.”

The tragic effects of that terrible day were long felt in Scotland. Every family of note in the land lost one or more of its members on the fatal field, besides the thousands of humbler beings who fell at the same time. Scotland did not recover from the crushing blow for more than a hundred years; and for many a day the people could not believe that their gallant king was really slain, but continued to hope that he had escaped in the darkness, and would one day return.

There has recently been erected on Flodden Field a simple cross of stone as a memorial of that tragic day. It was unveiled on September 27th, 1910, by Sir George Douglas, Bart. The inscription on the stone is “To the Brave of both Nations.”

THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.

A LAMENT FOR FLODDEN.
I’ve heard the liltin’ at our ewe-milking,
Lasses a’ liltin’ before dawn o’ day;
But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning—
The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.
At bughts,[[12]] in the mornin’, nae blythe lads are scornin’,
Lasses are lonely and dowie and wae;
Nae daffin’, nae jabbin’, but sighin’ and sabbin’,
Ilk ane lifts her leglin[[13]] and hies her away.
In harst, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering,
Bandsters are lyart,[[14]] and runkled, and gray;
At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching[[15]] The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.
At e’en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming
’Bout stacks, with the lasses at “bogle” to play;
But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie—
The Flowers of the Forest are weded away.
Dool and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border!
The English for ance by guile wan the day;
The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost,
The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay.
We’ll hear nae mair liltin’ at our ewe-milkin’;
Women and bairns are heartless and wae;
Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning—
The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.