By Trumpets sound, to summon them to yeeld,
And to accept his Mercy, ere to late,
Or else to say ere he forsooke the field,
Harflew should be but a meere heape of Stones,
Her buildings buried with her Owners bones.
France on this sudaine put into a fright,
With the sad newes of Harflew in distresse,
Whose inexpected, miserable plight,
She on the suddaine, knew not to redresse,
But vrg’d to doe the vtmost that she might,