That makes the sea before his face to flye
And with his flaggie finnes doth seeme to sweepe
The fomie waves out of the dreadfull deep.
The huge Leviathan, dame Nature’s wonder,
Making his sport, that manie makes to weep:
A Sword-fish small, him from the rest did sunder,
That, in his throat him pricking softly under,
His wide abysse him forced forth to spewe,
That all the sea did roare like heavens thunder,
And all the waves were stained with filthie hewe.