And th’haplesse food of hungrie fowles he dies.
278.
The rest, that did the Irish coast obtaine,
And had escap’d the furie of the flood,
By those wilde people wofully were slaine,
The Irish swift of feete, and flesht in blood,
Who thicke vpon the shore together stood
With deadly darts, to strike each foe-man dead;
That 'boue the waue did beare his fainting head.
279.