The wofull wight that fell from throne to thrall,
The wretch that woue the web wherein hee goes,
A dolefull blacke bad weede still weare hee shall
In woefull sorte, and nothing blame his foes:
What neede such one at all his name disclose?
Except the haplesse rest of Britaynes should,[675]
Not here for shame recite his name hee would.
2.
I am Emeriane King that raignde a space,
Scarce all one yeare,[676] in Britayne Isle long sence,