It was now five in the afternoon, and for two hours a solemn
pause ensued, each eyeing the other in the silence of suspense, with
nothing to separate them but a narrow ditch or rivulet. At seven the signal
was given, and Rupert, at the head of the royal cavalry on the right,
charged with his usual impetuosity, and with the usual result. He bore down
all before him, but continued the chase for some miles, and thus, by his
absence from the field, suffered the victory to slip out of his hands.[1]
At the same time the royal infantry, under Goring, Lucas, and Porter, had
charged their opponents with equal intrepidity and equal success. The line
of the confederates was pierced in several points; and their generals,
Manchester, Leven, and Fairfax, convinced that the day was lost, fled in
different directions. By their flight the chief command devolved upon
Cromwell, who improved the opportunity to win for himself the laurels of
victory. With "his ironsides" and the Scottish horse he had driven the
royal cavalry, under the earl of Newcastle, from their position on the
left. Ordering a few squadrons to observe and harass the fugitives, he
wheeled round on the flank of the royal infantry, and found them in
separate bodies, and in disorder, indulging in the confidence and license
of victory.
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