Meane time the blacke fleet floting on the maine, The night before disperst with foule affright, In hope her former purpose to obtaine, Return’d againe from base inglorious flight, Arang’d in order for the nauall fight, Which in diuided squadrons th’English fleet, With hot incounter furiously did meet. 252. [Sidenote: This conflict being the fourth and last, was before Greueling.] Who bound vp round together in a ring, Lay close in their defence against their foe; But as the southerne blasts in budding spring, When Auster’s swelling cheekes do ouerflow In handfuls thicke the blossomes downe to blow; So thicke and dreadfully did slaughter flie From th’English fleet amongst the enemie. 253. Then had th’Iberians dread, their pride did bow, Their foes by valour brake their nauall round, And as a torrent from an hil’s steepe brow, Clad in fresh showers and thunder’s fearefull sound, Beares all before it in the plaine land ground; So did they beat from off their natiue bounds, Spain’s mighty fleet with cannons scathful wounds. 254. And where the skirmish was propos’d most hot, Their valiant _Drake_ did breake into the fight, And though his ship were pierc’d with wounding shot Twice twentie times; yet with vndaunted might He horriblie did plie their sudden fright, And with wide wounds the hollow keeles did batter Of three tall ships betwixt the winde and water. 255. Then in despaire with hands and weeping eies, To heau’n the wretches prai’d for their escape, And to some saint of heau’n with open cries, Each one in blind deuotion prayers did shape; But all in vaine, the gulfie flood did gape, And in the deepe of his deuouring wombe, Both men and ships did suddenly intombe. 256. The rest all daunted with such vncouth sight, From spoile to saue their fleet no time did spare, But hoysing saile betooke themselues to flight, Cursing sterne fate, that brought their fleet so farre, To be despoil’d in such successelesse warre; And after all their boasting backe recoile, With emptie hands vnto their natiue soyle. 257. They heartlesse fled, but in their hastie flight, Two great galeons of captiu’d Portugale, The huge Saint _Philip_, and Saint _Matthew_ hight, Great _Seymer_ and stout _Winter_ did so gall With wounding cuffe of cannons fierie ball, That on the Belgian coast by friends forsaken, They with their captaines by their foes were taken. 258.