Say that the God of _Warre_; Father of Chiualrie, The _Worthies_, _Heroes_, all fam'd Conquerours, _Centaurs_, _Gyants_, victorious _Victorie_, Were all this _Grinuils_ hart-sworne paramours. Yet should we fightlesse let our shyps force flie: Well might we crush his keele with rocklike powers, And him with them ore-whelme into the maine, Courage then harts, fetch honour backe againe. Heere shame, the fretting canker of the mind, That fiers the face with fuell from the hart, Fearing his weapons weakenes, eft assigned To desperate hardines his confounding dart, And now the _Spanyards_ made through words stone blind, Desperate by shame, ashamd dispaire should part, Like damned scritchowles, chimes to dead mens hours, Make vowes to fight, till fight all liues deuours. And now the tragicke sceane of death begins, Acts of the night, deeds of the ouglie darke, When Furies brands gaue light to furious sins, And gastlie silence gaping wounds did marke; Sing sadlie then my Muse (teares pittie wins) Yet mount thy wings beyond the mornings Larke, And wanting thunder, with thy lightnings might, Split cares that heares the dole of this sad night. The fier of _Spaynes_ pride, quencht by _Grinuils_ sword, _Alfonso_ rekindles with his tong, And sets a batelesse edge, ground by his word Vpon their blunt harts feebled by the strong, Loe animated now, they all accord, To die, or ende deaths conflict held so long; And thus resolud, too greedelie assay His death, like hounds that hold the Hart at bay. Blacker then night, more terrible then hell, Louder then thunder, sharper then _Phoebus_ steele, Vnder whose wounds the ouglie _Python_ fell, Were bullets mantles, clowding the haplesse keele, The slaughtered cryes, the words the cannons tell, And those which make euen rocky Mountaines reele, And thicker then in sunne are Atomies, Flew bullets, fier, and slaughtered dead mens cries. At this remorsles Dirgie for the dead, The siluer Moone, dread Soueraigne of the Deepe, That with the floods fills vp her horned head And by her waine the wayning ebbs doth keepe: Taught by the Fat's how destenie was led, Bidds all the starres pull in their beames and weepe: For twas vnfit, chast hallowed eyes should see Honour confounded by impietie. Then to the night she giues all soueraigne power, Th'eternall mourner for the dayes diuorce, Who drowned in her owne harts killing shower, Viewes others torments with a sad remorse. This flintie Princesse, ayme cryes to the hower, On which to looke, kinde eies no force could force. And yet the sight her dull hart so offended, That from her sight a fogge dewe descended.