Amongst his holie sonnes he cald a quest, Whose counsell to his mischiefe might giue way, And to his raging thoughts at length giue rest, Setting his wrath on wing against that day, Wherein he purpos’d England’s swift decay; For by them all in counsell ’twas decreed, England should fall, _Elizae’s_ hart should bleed. 63. The time was set by stratagems deuise, And force of hands to worke their wicked hate, The persons chosen for that enterprise, All bent to tread downe England’s happie state Beneath the feete of some disaster sate, Bosting abroad before the deed was done, By their firme valor, what rich prize was wone. 64. The conquerd nations of the Indian soyle, At whose huge wealth the world is made to wonder, Their mother’s wombe were forced to dispoyle, And rudely rend her golden ribs in sunder, Thereby to set on wing warre’s roring thunder: For souldiers thoughts on golden wings flie far, And earth’s rich spoiles are sinewes of the war. 65. Manie tall pines were leueld with the plaine By the confederates of the Latin shore, Being taught to flie vpon the purple maine By force of winde and strength of sable oare, That on the solid ground stood firme before, Whose hugenesse mightie mountaines did resemble, Making the monsters of the deepe to tremble. 66. The famous artizans, that by their art Do imitate the thunder of the skie, And digging downe into the earth’s black hart, With that salt humor, that doth hidden lie, Into the ayre make fierie lightnings flie, Were all imploy’d by Spaine’s supreme command To hurle their thunder gainst our sea-sieg’d land. 67. All warre habiliments they did prepare To set sterne Mars vpon his conquering feete, Their farre-fetcht Indian gold they did not spare, That nothing might be wanting, that was meet To furnish out their most vnconquered fleet; Before all which was consummate and done, Bright Phœbus oft his yearely race had runne. 68. Meane time Rome’s dragon rousde his bloodie crest, And wau’d his wings, from whence that rabble rout, That hell-hatch’d brood, who, fed on error’s brest And suck’d her poysonous dugs, came crawling out As was their woont, to flie the world about: For those he hatch’d beneath his shadie wings, T’imploy ’gainst potentates and mightiest kings. 69. [Sidenote: _Anno Reg. 23._]