proach of the enemy’s forces; a party of winch he learned were, at that moment, attacking a guard of men who were conveying forage to the Britiſh camp. This information rouſed the martial armour of Glanville, who longed to enter the liſts with the combatants. A wounded ſoldier, who had eſcaped from the field, gave the melancholy tidings that, overpowered by numbers, the Engliſh were giving way; and that the proviſions muſt inevitably fall into the hands of the enemy–a circumſtance, he obſerved, which would entirely diſconcert the meaſures of the king, who commanded in perſon, and would oblige him to abandon the expedition he had planned. Glanville inſtantly mounted the wounded ſoldier’s horſe; and haſtening to the ſcene of action, had the mortification to ſee the Engliſh retreating in diſorder, and the enemy ſurrounding the convoy. The captain of the party, inſtead of encouraging his men to brave the charge of their enemy, gave way on the firſt advantage, and was gallopping off at full ſpeed, when Glanville reached the diſordered troops.
“For ſhame, Britons,” he cried, in a firm and animated tone, “let not the cowardice of your leader damp your native courage! return to the charge, and ſhow the preſuming foe, that you dread not their numbers; but are determined to diſpute the field as become the ſoldiers of the king you ſerve.”
Animated by the example of this gallant ſtranger, they rallied their broken forces; and, under the directions of this youth, returned to the charge. An obſtinate conflict enſued; but the ſuperior ſkill and bravery of Glanville and his followers at length bore down all before them, drove the enemy from the field, and conducted the convoy in ſafety to the camp.
Some of the party, who had fled from the field on the firſt appearance of a defeat, had ſpread through the camp the fatal tidings of the convoy’s loſs; ſo that the utmoſt conſternation prevailed. On the ſafe arrival of this ſupply the king had built his hopes of conqueſt; and purpoſed, as ſoon as the ſoldiers were
