LEAVING Margaret, and her faithful companion in misfortune, to pursue their hazardous journey, the memorable day of Tewkesbury must be again reverted to; where, though a complete victory was gained by the Yorkists, they lost the pride of all their heroes, the matchless Lord Fauconberg, whose unexampled deeds of valour have been before / spoken of. He was son to that Lord Fauconberg who was killed at the battle of Ravenspur.

Our navy, then, did not approach, in any degree, to that zenith of glory it at present boasts; for though Lord Fauconberg frequently protected the sea, against the intrusions of our gallic neighbours, he was also often called into the field during the combats of civil war.

This undaunted and successful hero, whom no danger could intimidate, or numbers overawe, seemed, on the morning of this decisive battle, to have a presentiment of his approaching fate. He penned his last testament, and bequeathed to a female friend he highly valued and whom, after his wife, he made mention of with the tenderest regard, a castle he possessed in one of the pleasantest counties in England, with a part of his / fortune; and recommended her to the kind protection of the government, when he should be no more. He knew the love that the king and people bore to him; and that they would faithfully attend to his dying request, and hold it sacred. In his pocket book was found a hasty prayer, addressed in fervency to the Supreme Being, imploring success to that cause in which he was engaged, and recommending his own spirit to Him who gave it.

By a skilful manœuvre of his troops, he might be said to mow down whole ranks of the enemy; and he fell, just as the shout of Victory announced the conclusion of this memorable battle; as if, having atchieved all that was great and wonderful for his country, Heaven had reserved this glorious moment for his death; and destined that the stain of his / blood on the laurels that encircled his brow, should preserve them in immortal and unfading verdure, through recording ages.