51.
The noble citie Nice, so strongly wall’d,
We with our conquering host begirted round,
Her gates we wonne, her turret’s tops we scall’d,
Her towring walles we equall’d with the ground,
And all her pride did in the fire confound:
Amongst whose spoiles great Solyman’s faire make,
With her deare children we did captiue take.
52.
Then did stout Heraclêa stoope her pride