3.
I Vortiger, by byrth was borne a lorde,
Kyng Constantine his coosin did me call,
I cride amayne, and clapt his crowne aborde,
And for a tyme til fortune forst my fall,
With restlesse blesse I sate in stately stall:
But men of warre of much more might then I,
For my desert my carefull corpes did fry.
4.
As furious force of fiery flashing fame,