And as they slept, each one secure of dread,
His weapon had fast fixed at his head,
Mongst whom, like hungrie wolues on flockes vnkept,
Stout Skinke and worthie Williams boldly stept.
122.
Then death triumpht in slaughter of the slaine,
Soules strugling in the pangs of many a wound,
Departs in griefe and makes aire sigh againe,
Swords blusht with blood, grim horror did abound,
A crimson dew stood on the grassie ground;