The son again would prove by too much wrath,
That he, whom thus he slew, was not his sire.
No blood nor kin can ’suage their ireful moods:
No foreign foe they seek, nor care to find:
The Briton’s blood is sought on every side.
A vain discourse it were to paint at large
The several fates and foils of either side;
To tell what groans and sighs the parting ghosts
Sent forth; who dying bare the fellest breast;
Who changed cheer at any Briton’s fall;