And as they spring, they are slain.—They lie in heaps.
Pen. Alas! what cries! Say, is the prince still safe?
2nd. He shieldeth himself well, and striketh surely.
His foes fall dead before him. Ah! now what see I?
Who cometh? Lo! a dazzling helm, a spear
Of silver or electron; sharp and swift
The piercings. How they fall. Ha, shields are raised
In vain. I am blinded, or the beggar-man
Hath waxed in strength. He is changed, he is young. O strange!
He is all in golden armour. These are gods,