I lookt about for sworde or weapon, I
To runne with Britaynes cryde, they flie, they flie.
4.
Their flight to ships and foyle the trumpets sound,
And blewe the victours triumphes at returne:
The noyse well nigh my sences did confound,
And made my heart with all their loues to burne:
But when they gan the wounded Britaynes mourne
With doubled wayling shrickes, such cryes they sente
And sobbes and sighes, wel nigh my heart they rente.