I as a partner in that great affaire, With my support that iourney to vphold, My wants with store to furnish, did not spare My Norman dukedome, which for summes of gold Till my returne the king did morgag’d hold: Gold doth men’s thoughts to high attempts prepare, And ouergilds the danger of the warre. 40. Hearken how fame vpon the Norman coast With her shrill trumpe from kingdomes far away, Summons vnto an head my warlike host, Behold the sackfull troopes in braue array, Beneath my ensignes for this bold assay, Who martiall’d by my hand, with ample traine, Do crowne the vtmost bankes of Belgike Seine. 41. Behold the English famous for his bow, Sharpning his angrie arrowes for the field, The Scot with his long pike his cunning show, The Britaine big-bon’d-bold, not borne to yeeld, Addressing brauely both his sword and sheeld, See how the Norman manageth his horse, The Irish shakes his dart with manly force. 42. As wak’d from sleepe, with christians wofull cries, Bound by the Saracen in captiue bands, And often blushing at the late surprise Of those milke-hony-flowing holy lands, Now made the spoile of Pagan’s conquering hands, Hence did we march with heau’ns great king for guide Into the east, to beate downe Pagan’s pride. 43. Inglorious age, made drunke with dregs of peace, Heere iustly may I taxe thy peacefull time, Heere must our muse’s warlike song surcease, A carping straine, a more inuectiue rime, Doth best befit the nature of thy crime: Looke backe at vs, mourne thine owne want of praise And glorious deeds, to glorifie thy daies. 44. Say glorie, say, hath peacefull follie furl’d Thy flag of honor? li’st thou dead in graue, With great _Heroes_ of the elder world, Who led vs ouer Hellespontus waue Beneath his badge, whose blood the world did saue? Arise, arise, call forth the christian man, Against the house of tyrant Ottoman. 45. Hearke, how Thessalian woods records the cries Of captiu’d Greekes vpon Penæus shore: Behold how sacred Salem wasted lies: See, see, how Sion mournes, where saints of yore Did in sweet hymnes the king of heauen adore: Behold that blessed land, the cursed seat Where raignes th’Arabian Turkish Mahomet. 46.