At length the French army began to prepare for action. A thousand trumpets uttered their shrill voices, the horses neighed, and weapons rattled on all sides with a sound so ominous in the darkness that the Flemings felt a cold shiver thrill through them. What a cloud of foes was about to burst upon them! But to these valiant men this was nothing—they were going to die, that they knew: but their widowed wives and their children, what would become of them? At that solemn moment their thoughts reverted to those most dear to them.
Fathers thought bitterly of their sons, doomed to iron bondage; sons bewailed in agony their grayheaded fathers, left the helpless prey of tyranny. Within them were two contending emotions—inflexible resolution and crushing anguish; and when these meet in men's hearts in presence of a threatening danger, they combine and fuse into a transport cf rage and fury. And this effect was now produced on the Flemings; their gaze was fixed and unpitying, their teeth were clenched in fierce resolve, a burning thirst made their mouths dry and parched, and their breath came thick and rapid from their panting breasts. An appalling silence reigned throughout the army; no one expressed his apprehensions or feelings to his comrade; all were plunged in thoughts of painful gloom. They were standing thus drawn up in a long line, when the sun rose above the horizon, and disclosed to them the camp of the French.
The horsemen were so numerous that their spears stood thick as ears of corn at harvest-time. The horses of the advanced columns pawed the ground impatiently, and besprinkled their glittering trappings of steel with flakes of snow-white foam. The trumpets sent their lively tones, like some festal rejoicing, to mingle with the sighing of the trees in the Neerlander wood; and the morning breeze played wantonly with the waving folds of the standards, and with the streamers attached to the spears of the cavalry. At intervals, the voice of the general was heard above this tumult of war; and the war-cry, "Noel! Noel! France! France!" arose from one company; and as it was caught up by each in quick succession, a deafening echo ran through the whole host. The French horsemen were eager, and full of courage; they pricked the sides of their war-steeds with their spurs to goad them into fiercer fury, and then caressed them and talked to them, that they might the better know their master's voice in the thick of the fight. Who shall have the honor of the first blow? was the thought that filled every mind with eager excitement. This was a great point of honor in those days. Whenever this good fortune fell to the lot of a knight in an important battle, he boasted of it all his life long, as a proof and token of his superior valor; and hence each one held his horse in readiness, and his spear in rest, to rush forward at the first word of command, or at the slightest sign from the general.
In the meadows close about the army, the farextended lines of the French infantry might be seen winding about the fields like the folds of some hideous serpent; the greatest stillness pervaded their ranks.
When Guy observed that the attack was about to commence, he sent a thousand slingers, under the command of Solomon van Sevecote, as far as the second brook, to harass the French outposts and sentinels; then he disposed his various companies into a square, in such a manner that the eyes of all were directed toward its centre. At that point rose an altar constructed of turf, and over it waved the great banner of St. George, the patron of warriors; on its steps knelt a priest, arrayed in the vestments of his office, who proceeded to offer the Holy Sacrifice for the good success of the battle. When the Mass was ended, the priest, still standing at the altar, turned toward the army; and in a moment, inspired by one and the same sentiment, the troops sank to the ground, and received in solemn silence the benediction of the Most Holy Sacrament. The hearts of all were deeply stirred by this holy ceremony; a spirit of lofty self-devotion seemed to kindle within them, and they felt as if the voice of God called them to a martyr's death. Glowing with this holy flame, they remembered no more all that was dear to them on earth; they rose to the full stature of the heroism of their fathers; their breasts heaved more freely; the blood flowed more impetuously through their veins, and they longed for the battle, as for their deliverance from the oppressor.
And now, as all arose In deepest silence, the youthful Guy sprang from his horse, and standing in the middle of the square, addressed them thus: "Men of Flanders, remember the famous deeds of your ancestors; never did they count their foes. Their invincible courage won for us that freedom of which an alien tyrant would now despoil us. You, too, will to-day pour out your hearts' blood in defense of this sacred heritage and deposit; and if we die, let us die a free and manly people, the never-tamed sons of the Lion. Think on God, whose temples they have burnt; on your
