With Sorrow for my guide, as there I stood,
A troope of men the most in armes bedight,
In tumult clustred ’bout both sides the flood;
’Mongst whom, who were ordaind t’eternall night,
Or who to blissefull peace and sweet delight
I wot not well, it seem’d that they were all
Such as by death’s vntimely stroke did fall.
Some headlesse were, some body, face and hands,
With shamefull wounds despoil’d in euery part.
Some strangled, some that dide in captiue bands,