Fighting desperately in the front rank Munro and his officers
encouraged their men with shouts and example; but it was all in
vain, and he at last shouted to the remains of his followers to
form in a solid body and cut their way back through the enemy who
surrounded them. Hemmed in as they were by enemies the Scottish
spearmen obeyed, and, headed by their colonel, flung themselves
with a sudden rush upon the enemy. Before the weight and fury
of the charge the veterans of Spain gave way, and the Scots found
themselves on the crest of the hill which they had lately ascended.
No sooner were they free from the Spanish ranks than the musketeers
of the latter opened fire upon them, and numbers fell in the retreat.
When they reached the foot of the fatal hill, and bleeding and
breathless gathered round their commander, Munro burst into tears
on finding that of the noble regiment he had led up the hill scarce
enough remained to form a single company. Seven times now had Horn
striven to carry the hill, seven times had he been repulsed with
terrible slaughter, and he now began to fall back to join the
force of Duke Bernhard. The latter, recognizing that the battle
was lost, and that Horn, if not speedily succoured, was doomed,
for the Imperialists, flushed with victory, were striving to cut
him off, made a desperate attack upon the enemy hoping to draw
their whole forces upon himself, and so enable Horn to retire.
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