Both parts stood bent each other to confound;
The cannons thicke discharg’d on either hand
Wrapt clouds in clouds of smoake, which did abound,
And hurl’d their horrid thunder forth to wound;
But fortune on the foes in fight did frowne,
And in her ballance, Spaine’s hard lot sunke downe.
229.
With fruits of death the fruitlesse waues did flow,
The seas did blush with blood, the ayrie skie
Did swell with grones, and wandring to and fro,