Still did I fight, although with fainting breath,
Vntill in fight I heard of Mordred’s death.
107.
Whose tragick fall when true report did tell,
His souldiers fled away, and in their flight
Vp flew their heeles, in slaughter fast they fell,
Darts thick as haile their backs behinde did smite,
Farre more in chase did fall, then in the fight:
Yea none had scap’t the furie of that day
Had not my bleeding wounds stood in my way.