Yet at their hands no helpe to this assay _Elizae’s_ famous captaines could obtaine, Who wanting power their valour to display, When the sad prince _Antonio_ all in vaine The people’s helpe had sought, and none could gaine, Remou’d their martiall power gainst Lisbon bent, And towards Cascais vnto their nauie went. 315. Where valiant _Drake_ with his triumphant fleet, Came vp the riuer as it was decreed, And with the armie at Cascais did meet, Whose meeting to the foes such feare did breed, That at their first approch, the towne with speed And castle both without long batterie, Did stoope their pride to th’English valiancie. 316. And where the foes that proudly ranged were Fast by Saint Iulian’s, readie arm’d for fight, Had broadly misreported, that with feare Of their approch their foes with foule affright, Themselues had taken to inglorious flight, Vndaunted _Norrice_ with his martiall traine, Did towards Saint Iulian’s backe returne againe. 317. [Sidenote: In _Colonel Wingfield’s_ discourse, pag. 148, in the second volume of _R. Hak._ Nauigations.] And valiant _Essex_ this bold challenge sent, As combatant in his great soueraigne’s name, To know, who durst of noble borne descent, Stand forth amongst the rest to fight for fame, And trie by blowes the cause, for which they came; Or if that eight to eight, or ten to ten, Durst tempt their fate in fight like valiant men. 318. But through th’Iberian armie not a man Stood forth as combatant in single fight; For when the generall with his troops began T’approch their campe, before he came in sight, They fled away befriended by the night, Nor stai’d they till they made great Lisbon gate, Their safe asylum gainst all aduerse fate. 319. Meane time, that sea-fam’d captaine worthie _Drake_, Twice fortie martiall ships well man’d for fight, In seas did sinke, did burne, did spoile and take; Mongst whom Saint _Iohn de Colerado_ hight, Third vnto none in building and in might, He burnt with raging fire of flaming brand, And sunk her bulke in shoales of swallowing sand. 320. Thus though the English disappointed were Of seating _Don Antonio_ in the throne, Through that base female stomackt nation’s feare, Whose sad distresse no future time shall moane, Though vnder tyrant’s yoke their spirits groane; Yet fame, the prize on which they ment to pray, In their swift barks with them they brought away. 321.