The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

548 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
action. The fire was continued with the utmost vehemence on both sides,
and the issue of the action seemed very dubious.
Monmouth, mounted on a superb white charger, might be discovered on
the top of the right bank of the river, urging, entreating, and animating the
exertions of his soldiers. By his orders, the cannon, which had hitherto been
employed in annoying the distant main body of the-presbyterians, were now
turned upon the defenders of the bridge. But these tremendous engines,
being wrought much more slowly than in modern times, did not produce
the effect of annoying or terrifying the enemy to the extent proposed. The
insurgents, sheltered by the copsewood along the bank of the river, or
stationed in the houses already mentioned, fought under cover, while the
royalists, owing to the precautions of Morton, were entirely exposed. The
defence was so protracted and obstinate, that the royal generals began to
fear it might be ultimately successful. While Monmouth threw himself
from his horse, and, rallying the Foot-Guards, brought them on to another
close and desperate attack, he was warmly seconded by Dalzell, who, putting himself at the head of a body of Lennox-Highlanders, rushed forward
with their tremendous war-cry of Loch-sloy.* The ammunition of the defenders of the bridge began to fail at this important crisis; messages, cominanding and imploring succours and supplies, were in vain despatched, one
after the other, to the main body of the presbyterian army, which remained
inactively drawn up on the open fields in the rear. Fear, consternation, and
misrule, had gone abroad among them, and while the post on which their
safety depended required to be instantly and powerfully reinforced, there
remained none either to command or to obey.
As the fire of the defenders of the bridge began to slacken, that of the
assailants increased, and in its turn became more fatal. Animated by the
example and exhortations of their generals, they obtained a footing upon
the bridge itself, and began to remove the obstacles by which it was blockaded. The portal-gate was broke open, the beams, trunks of trees, and
other materials of the barricade, pulled down and thrown into the river.
This was not accomplished without opposition. Morton and Burley fought
in the very front of their followers, and encouraged them with their pikes,
halberds, and partisans, to encounter the bayonets of the Guards, and the
broadswords of the Highlanders. But those behind the leaders began to
shrink from the unequal combat, and fly singly, or in parties of two or three,
towards the main body, until the remainder were, by the mere weight of the
hostile column as much as by their weapons, fairly forced from the bridge.
The passage being now open, the enemy began to pour over. But the bridge
was long and narrow, which rendered the manceuvre slow as well as dangerous; and those who first passed had still to force the houses, from the windows of which the Covenanters continued to fire. Burley and Morton were
near each other at this critical moment.
" There is yet time," said the former, " to bring down horse to attack.
them, ere they can get into order; and, with the aid of God, we may thus
regain the bridge. HIasten thou to bring them down, while I make the defence good with this old and wearied body."
Morton saw the importance of the advice, and, throwing himself on the
horse which Cuddie held in readiness for him behind the thicket, galloped
towards a body of cavalry which chanced to be composed entirely of Cameronians. Ere he could speak his errand, or utter his orders, he was saluted
by the execrations of the whole body.
" Ie flies!" they exclaimed-" the cowardly traitor flies like a hart from
the hunters, and hath left valiant Burley in the midst of the slaughter!"
" I do not fly," said Morton. " I come to lead you to the attack. Advance
boldly, and we shall yet do well."
U This was the slogan or war-cry of the MacFarlanes, taken from a lake near the head of Loch Lomond,
in the,'entre of their ancient possessions on the western banks of that beautiful inland sea.