Of th’aduerse force, that by their violent might,
They brake the rankes, and turn’d their foes to flight.
55.
With whom the Mercian duke fled fast away,
The traytor Edrick hopelesse now of grace,
Who wing’d with feare of his decreed decay,
Outstript our pursuit, yet with greedie chace
We did pursue, vntill the day gaue place
T’approching night, whose wished presence gaue
Time to the foes themselues from death to saue.