 all women, and especially strangers, do repair to their work, and not be seen upon the street clamorand and cryand; and that women of the better sort do repair to the church and offer up prayers, at the stated hours, for our Sovereign Lord and his army, and the townsmen who are with the army.'"
Indeed the council records bear ample evidence of the emergency of that occasion. Throughout the earlier pages, the word "Flowdoun" frequently occurs on the margin, in reference to the various hurried orders for arming and defense; and there can be no doubt that, had the English forces attempted to follow up their victory, and attack the Scottish capital, the citizens would have resisted to the last. But it soon became apparent that the loss sustained by the English was so severe, that Surrey was in no condition to avail himself of the opportunity; and in fact, shortly afterwards, he was compelled to disband his army.
The references to the city banner, contained in the following poem, may require a word of explanation. It is a standard still held in great honour and reverence by the burghers of Edinburgh, having been presented to them by James the Third, in return for their loyal service in 1482. This banner, along with that of the Earl Marischal, still conspicuous in the Library of the Faculty of Advocates, was honourably brought back from Flodden, and certainly never could have been displayed in a more memorable field. Maitland says, with reference to this very interesting relic of antiquity,—
"As a perpetual remembrance of the loyalty and bravery of the Edinburghers on the aforesaid occasion, the King granted them a banner or standard, with power to display the same in defense of their king, country, and their own rights. This flag is kept by the Convenor of the Trades; at whose appearance therewith, it is said that not only the artificers of Edinburgh are obliged to repair to it, but all the artisans or craftsmen within Scotland are bound to follow it, and fight under the Convenor of Edinburgh as aforesaid."
No event in Scottish history ever took a more lasting hold of the public mind than the "woeful fight" of Flodden; and even now, the songs and traditions which are current on the Border recall the memory of a contest unsullied by disgrace, though terminating in disaster and defeat.
Edinburgh after Flodden
News of battle!—news of battle!
- Hark! 'tis ringing down the street:
And the archways and the pavement
- Bear the clang of hurrying feet.
News of battle? Who hath brought it?
- News of triumph? Who should bring
Tidings from our noble army,
- Greetings from our gallant King?
All last night we watched the beacons
- Blazing on the hills afar,
Each one bearing, as it kindled,
- Message of the opened war.
All night long the northern streamers
- Shot across the trembling sky:
Fearful lights, that never beckon
- Save when kings or heroes die.
News of battle! Who hath brought it?
- All are thronging to the gate;
"Warder—warder! open quickly!
- Man—is this a time to wait?"
And the heavy gates are opened:
- Then a murmur long and loud,
And a cry of fear and wonder
- Bursts from out the bending crowd.
For they see in battered harness
- Only one hard-stricken man,
And his weary steed is wounded,
- And his cheek is pale and wan.
Spearless hangs a bloody banner
- In his weak and drooping hand—
God! can that be Randolph Murray,
- Captain of the city band?
Round him crush the people, crying,
- "Tell us all—oh, tell us true!
Where are they who went to battle,
- Randolph Murray, sworn to you?
Where are they, our brothers—children?
- Have they met the English foe?
Why art thou alone, unfollowed?
- Is it weal, or is it woe?"
Like a corpse the grisly warrior
- Looks from out his helm of steel;
But no word he speaks in answer,
- Only with his armèd heel
Chides his weary steed, and onward
- Up the city streets they ride;
Fathers, sisters, mothers, children,
- Shrieking, praying by his side.
"By the God that made thee, Randolph!
- Tell us what mischance hath come!"
Then he lifts his riven banner,
- And the asker's voice is dumb.
The elders of t