They brake into the midst of Spaine’s blacke fleet, Opposing dreadfull death to win renowne, As when in skies the earth-bred brothers meet, When Boreas flying about with stormie frowne, Doth cuff the clouds, and brings his brothers downe; For with high spirit, heau’n did their hearts inspire, T’assaile the foes and burne their fleet with fire. 224. Renowned _Howard_, England’s admirall, Longing to see the Castile king’s disgrace, Their stoutest hearts with terror did appall, Who meeting with his foe-men face to face, Vnto his furie made them all giue place, Breaking so farre into the fleet alone, That from the aduerse foes he scarce was knowne. 225. Wherein the midst of danger vncontrol’d, Vpon the vpper decke he stood on high, From whence, when as from far he did behold One of his captaines, who did wafting lie Without the danger of the enemie, Out of a cloud of smoake he loud did call, Aboue his head wauing his sword withall. 226. [Sidenote: M. _George Fenner_, This was in the second fight before Portland. _Rich. Hak._ in the end of his 1. volume.] “O _George_,” quoth he, “why dost thou shun the presse? Report renownes thy name for valiancie: Then leaue me not alone in this distresse; But with vndaunted spirit follow me To gaine the palme of glorious victorie; So shall that hope, which I conceiue of thee, In this daie’s bloodie fight not frustrate bee.” 227. The captaine heard, and like a stormie puffe, That stoopes from clouds and beats the billowes vnder, He brake into the fight with cannons cuffe, And came in height of spirit importing wonder In clouds of smoake, in fierie flames and thunder, With whom did many others giue th’assay, And through Spaine’s fleet did furrow vp their way. 228. The foes turn’d head, and made a violent stand, Both parts stood bent each other to confound; The cannons thicke discharg’d on either hand Wrapt clouds in clouds of smoake, which did abound, And hurl’d their horrid thunder forth to wound; But fortune on the foes in fight did frowne, And in her ballance, Spaine’s hard lot sunke downe. 229. With fruits of death the fruitlesse waues did flow, The seas did blush with blood, the ayrie skie Did swell with grones, and wandring to and fro, In clouds of smoake the grudging soules did flie Of slaughtred bodies, that did floting lie About the ocean, seeking for their tombes In hollow rockes and monsters hungrie wombes. 230. [Sidenote: This happened in the third conflict before the Ile of Wight. It was fired by a shot.]