Couering your foe with cloud of deadly night,
Haue borne him hence to Plutoes balefull bowres.
The conquest yours, I yours, the shield, and glory yours.
Not all so satisfide, with greedie eye xv
He sought all round about, his thirstie[182] blade
To bath[183] in bloud of faithlesse enemy;
Who all that while lay hid in secret shade:
He standes amazed, how he thence should fade.
At last the trumpets[184] Triumph sound on hie,
And running Heralds humble homage made,