With his approch, the foes, through sable night,
Their friends from foes could not discerne aright,
In which distresse vnable long to shield
Their campe from spoile, they fled and left the field.
17.
Darknesse suborn’d their flight, and did preuent
Our purpos’d pursuit for th’intended chase,
Their campe laid waste, we found in euery tent
Rich spoile and captiues, men of no meane place,
With more renowne our deed of worth to grace,