51.
Whose liuelesse lims in endlesse sleepe fast bound,
After he had despoil’d and headlesse made,
He tooke himselfe vnto an higher ground,
And piching Osmear’s head vpon his blade,
He held the same on high and thus he said:
“Flie, wretched countrimen, your king is dead,
The day is lost, see here king Edmund’s head.”
52.
The suddaine horror of this vncouth sight