Should I relate the many a field I fought Against _Aschillius_ that bold Danish king, And ’gainst proud _Lot_ the Norway king so stout, Whom after thousand soules being set on wing, We at the length did in subiection bring: Scarce would the eares of fraile mortalitie Giue credit to our noble historie. 50. Yet thinke, what dread of death and dangerous wounds We in those trauels then might vndergoe, From Albion’s rockes vnto the Russian bounds, And our great conquest ’gainst the northren foe, The fame of our admir’d exploits will show: For to the Lap-land kingdome’s vtmost end, Our Britaine empire’s bounds I did extend. 51. In deeds of fame, thus did I spend the prime Of goden youth, which lul’d in pleasure’s bed, Flies fast away vpon the wings of time, And scarce is knowne t’haue bin, when th’hoarie hed With white of wintrie age is ouerspred: For age with shame of youth’s fond deeds strooke blind, Doth oft abhorre to beare the same in mind. 52. Who doth to sloth his yonger daies ingage For fond delight, he clips the wings of fame: For sloth the canker-worme of honor’s badge, Fame’s fethered wings doth fret, burying the name Of vertue’s worth in dust of dunghill shame, Whom action out of dust to light doth bring And makes her mount to heauen with golden wing. 53. After my high atchieuements in the north I being returned to my natiue land, Fame through the world did so renowne the worth Of these deeds done by my victorious hand, That greatest kings did in amazement stand, Strooke blind in looking at the sunshine blaze Of my great worth, yet enuying at my praise. 54. For when true vertue’s glorious excellence, Mounts vp aloft, and like the sun in skies, Breakes through the clouds of darkesome ignorance, Then enuie rous’d from her darke den doth rise, And dazel’d with the golden shine, that flies From vertue’s splendor, seekes t’obscure the same, And muffle it in her blacke clouds of shame. 55. That enuious beast of twice fiue hornes of might, Who ore the world did long time tyrannize, From Rome’s high towres viewing the golden light Of my great fame, which dazled her weake eies, Selfe swolne with haughtie pride, rows’d vp did rise, And at my state with her proud hornes did push, In hope my fame being yet but yong to crush. 56.