At length wee came to shores of Albany,
And there to fight with Britaynes pitch’d our fielde,
In hope to make them flinche, flye, fall, or yeelde.
6.
They met vs, long wee fearcely fought it out,
And doubtfull was the victours part of twaine:
Till with my Hunnes I rusht among the route,
And fought till that King Albanact was slayne.
Then they to yeelde or pardon craue were fayne,
And I with triumphes great receau’d the pray,