Thus hauing chear’d the common soulderie, The cloudie euen began to shut vp day: Wherefore she backe return’d from Tilburie, And towards that martiall field did take her way, Where as that other royall armie lay, In which did march the nobles of the land, In rich array, each with his seuerall band. 210. Troopt vp there were in that same strong-arm’d host, Fortie three thousand perfect in the frame Of euery fight, who of that time may boast, And craue inscription in the booke of fame, T’haue been the guard of so diuine a dame, Who for her person only chosen were, Martiall’d by _Hunsdon_ that true hearted peere. 211. [Sidenote: _M. Thomas Flemming._] But while the noble queene her selfe appli’d T’oppugne the foe, that should her state assaile, Loe, from the Groyne the blacke fleet was descri’d, Who now befriended with a gentle gale, For England’s rockie bounds did make full saile, Of whom hight captaine _Flemming_ first had sight, And fled before them with industrious flight. 212. At Plimmouth port where th’English fleet did lie, He with full saile came in, and cri’d amaine: “Weigh vp your ankors, hoise your sailes on high; For like _Ortigian Delos_ on the maine, Behold, th’Iberian fleet from shores of Spaine Comes hard at hand, and threatens our decay; Then arme, aboord with speed, make no delay.” 213. This said, confusedly the souldiers ran To ships from shore, earth flew about their feet, Then weigh’d they vp their ankors, and each man Put to his helping hand, to bring their fleet Into the seas, the aduerse foes to meet, And though the froward winds did them withstand, They warped out their ships by force of hand. 214. Then might they see from farre vpon the maine, Like a blacke wood approching more and more, Their foe-men’s tragicke fleet, which in disdaine With sound of trumpets, drums, and cannons rore, Came proudly thundring by the rockie shore, And with amazement th’English to affright, Their souldiers with loud shouts the heau’ns did smite. 215. [Sidenote: _Stow_ in his Ann. p. 1249.] They sayling came in order for the fight, In such a forme on Thetis siluer brest, As bright-cheekt Cinthia shewes in darkest night, When stretching out her hornes into the east, She shewes but halfe her face, and hides the rest, Which made a crescent moone vpon the maine, Whose hornes eight miles in compasse did containe. 216.