A king, that only liues a king in name, That dull’d with ease and drown’d in fancie’s lust, Can stile his title with no deed of fame, Being dead, his name iron-eating time shall rust And in the end obscure it in the dust, When he, though meane, that vertue’s race doth runne, Doth liue eterniz’d like th’immortall sunne. 43. This was the winde that set my ships on saile, In forren shoares true honor to obtaine, This was the prize, for which with prosperous gaile, I plow’d my passage through the liquid maine Vnto the Arctike pole, where _Charles_ his waine Fixt fast in heauen, his station there doth keepe With other starres neare diuing to the deepe. 44. And there in that cold iland Island call’d, Whose mountaines with high heads did heauen aspire, Which white with snow as if they had been bald Did yet breath forth blacke smoakes and burning fire, A wonder strange for humaine sense t’admire, I with my Britaines bold bore to the Strand And vncontrol’d march’t vp into the land. 45. Whose people rude and liuing in their kind, As beasts that wander in the desert field, The rationall and best part of the mind In vse of heauenly things not being skill’d Against blind ignorance the soule to shield, We did in fight subdue, and by strong hand Did them enforce to stoope to our command. 46. Their king _Maluasius_ noting well the oddes Twixt vs and them in feats of martiall skill, And finding, that no place of safe abodes Was left to him, in feare of future ill Did soone submit himselfe vnto our will, And from that time vnto my name’s renowne Did yeeld obedience to the Britaine crowne. 47. The fame of this exploit being set on wing, And through the iles adiacent taking flight, _Doldauius_ of the Gotland nation king, And great _Gunfacius_ king of Orkney hight Despairing to oppose our force in fight, Did yeeld to hold their crownes and dignitie By tribute to the Britaine emperie. 48. But should I vnto light assay to bring Each fight then fought and euery deed of worth, Had I the strength of thousand tongues to sing, Or the shrill trumpe of fame to echo forth My conquests, in those ilands of the north, Yet would the glasse of time be quite outrun Before that true report her part had done. 49.