With ruine of the foes dispred on ground,
Gasping for breath with many a bleeding wound.
65.
Greate Ioue the god of conquest, who from harme
Did garde our host in euerie such assay,
Did through the cloudes stretch out his mightie arme,
And on the foes did powre downe swift decay,
Slaughtering their men on heapes, few fled away:
Twice fiftie thousand dead in field did fall,
With stout Corbona their cheife generall.