restrain me not, these folk will work a cure for me—­there, I am a man again!’ and as he stood upright, sheathed in his glittering mail, his drawn sword in his gauntleted hand, a wild shout of irrepressible joy burst from us all, and, caught up by the soldiers without the tent, echoed and re-echoed through the camp.  The sudden appearance of the Bruce’s charger, caparisoned for battle, standing before his master’s tent, the drums rolling for the muster, the lightning speed with which Sir Edward Bruce, Lennox, and Hay, after dispersing De Brechin’s troop, as dust on the plain, galloped to the royal pavilion, themselves equally at a loss to understand the bustle there, all prepared the men-at-arms for what was to come.  Eagerly did the gallant knights remonstrate with their sovereign, conjure him to follow the battle in his litter, rather than attempt to mount his charger; they besought him to think what his life, his safety was to them, and not so rashly risk it.  Lord Edward did entreat him to reserve his strength till there was more need; the field was then clear, the foes had not appeared; but all in vain their eloquence, the king combated it all.  ‘We will go seek them, brother,’ cheerily answered the king; ’we will go tell them insult to the Bruce passes not unanswered.  On, on, gallant knights, our men wax impatient.’  Hastening from the tent, he stood one moment in the sight of all his men:  removing his helmet, he smiled a gladsome greeting.  Oh, what a shout rung forth from those iron ranks!  There was that noble face, pale, attenuated indeed, but beaming on them in all its wonted animation, confidence, and love; there was that majestic form towering again in its princely dignity, seeming the nobler from being so long unseen.  Again and again that shout arose, till the wild birds rose screaming over our heads, in untuned, yet exciting chorus.  Nor did the fact that the king, strengthened as he was by his own glorious soul, had in reality not bodily force enough to mount his horse without support, take from the enthusiasm of his men, nay, it was heightened and excited to the wildest pitch.  ’For Scotland and freedom!’ shouted the king, as for one moment he rose in his stirrups and waved his bright blade above his head.  ’For Bruce and Scotland!’ swelled the answering shout.  We formed, we gathered in compact array around our leaders, loudly clashed our swords against our shields; we marched a brief while slowly and majestically along the plain; we neared the foe, who, with its multitude in terrible array, awaited our coming; we saw, we hurled defiance in a shout which rent the very air.  Quicker and yet quicker we advanced; on, on—­we scoured the dusty plain, we pressed, we flew, we rushed upon the foe; the Bruce was at our head, and with him victory.  We burst through their ranks; we compelled them, at the sword’s point, to turn and fight even to the death; we followed them foot to foot, and hand to hand, disputing every inch of ground; they sought to retreat, to fly—­but no!  Five miles of Scottish ground, five good broad miles, was that battle-field; the enemy lay dead in heaps upon the field, the remainder fled.”