Of thirtie thousand men arm’d with bright steele,
The greatest number after all their toile,
Did perish in great Neptune’s wrackfull spoile,
And all the prince of Parmae’s mightie bands
Return’d with shame, disgrace and emptie hands.
281.
Thus our Elizae’s boasting enemie,
Who in vaine pride did blacke their tragicke fleet,
And brought ostents of threatning destinie,
In top of all their hope with shame did meet,