O warlike nation, where is now that name, Which th’English sword did graue on Acon’s wall, Why do your valours sleepe, vp, vp for shame, Let not your countrie’s ancient glorie fall: Go, free poore christians from proud Pagan’s thrall, Redeeme his sepulchre, who did redeeme The world from death, with blood of such esteeme. 47. Transport thou now thy muse to Bosphorus’ brim, Ouer whose waues from Iuno iealous dame, To Asian meades of yore did Io swim, From whom transform’d the streame then tooke his name, And since that time hath still retain’d the same, Ouer whose waues as we did waft our host, Much christian blood we ’gainst the Bulgar lost. 48. Hence did we march to Hellespontus flood, Where Helle, with yong Phrixus, put to flight By stepdam’s rage, of which in feare they stood, Flying, alas, and falling with affright, Into the waue sunke downe in Phrixus’ sight: Yet still to liue, in leauing her deare breath, She left her name to Pontus at her death. 49. The coast we tooke, where once Abydos stood, Whence nak’d Leander, wafted by the light Of Hero’s loue, so often swom the flood, Till Helle rauisht with so sweet a sight, Enuying Hero’s hap, in her despight Into the deepe her deare Leander drew, Where to his loue he sigh’d his last adew. 50. There on the plaines, where Troye’s sad ruines stand, Whence Agamemnon’s troopes haue often run, To shun the furie of great Hector’s hand, Against the Pagan many deeds were done Beneath our standard of Ioue’s powerfull sonne, There all the host, as towards Nice we past, With spoilefull hands laid all the countrie wast. 51. The noble citie Nice, so strongly wall’d, We with our conquering host begirted round, Her gates we wonne, her turret’s tops we scall’d, Her towring walles we equall’d with the ground, And all her pride did in the fire confound: Amongst whose spoiles great Solyman’s faire make, With her deare children we did captiue take. 52. Then did stout Heraclêa stoope her pride And seeing the Niceans yeeld, did yeeld with them, From thence to Tarsus we our host did guide, Fast by the bankes of Cydnus, whose sweet streame Did seeme t’inuite vs to that stratageme, Wafting vs, with slow waters sliding downe From mountaine Taurus, vnto Tarsus towne. 53.