eight in the morning
Ah , how lustily sounds the cry of ` Warwick ! ' By the flaming sword of Saint Michael , we will slacken that haughty shout , or be evermore dumb ourself , ere the day be an hour nearer to the eternal judgment ! '' Deliberately Edward rebraced his helm , and settled himself in his saddle , and with his knights riding close each to each , that they might not lose themselves in the darkness , regained his infantry , and led them on to the quarter where the war now raged fiercest , round the black steed of Warwick and the blood-red manteline of the fiery Richard . It was now scarcely eight in the morning , though the battle had endured three hours ; and , as yet , victory so inclined to the earl that nought but some dire mischance could turn the scale . Montagu had cut his way to Warwick ; Somerset had re-established his array . The fresh vigour brought by the earl 's reserve had well-nigh completed his advantage over Gloucester 's wing . The new infantry under Hilyard , the unexhausted riders under Sir John Coniers and his knightly compeers , were dealing fearful havoc , as they cleared the plain ; and Gloucester , fighting inch by inch , no longer outnumbering but outnumbered , was driven nearer and nearer towards the town , when suddenly a pale , sickly , and ghostlike ray of sunshine , rather resembling the watery gleam of a waning moon than the radiance of the Lord of Light , broke through the mists , and showed to the earl 's eager troops the banner and badges of a new array hurrying to the spot .