From thee, O Ælla, alle oure courage reygnes; Echone yn phantasie do lede the Danes ynne chaynes. ÆLLA. Mie countrymenne, mie friendes, your noble sprytes Speke yn youre eyne, & doe yer master telle. Swefte as the rayne-storme toe the erthe alyghtes, 675 Soe wylle we fall upon these royners felle. Oure mowynge swerdes shalle plonge hem downe to helle; Theyre throngynge corses shall onlyghte the starres; The barrowes brastynge wythe the sleene schall swelle, Brynnynge[92] to commynge tymes our famous warres; 680 Inne everie eyne I kenne the lowe of myghte, Sheenynge abrode, alyche a hylle-fyre ynne the nyghte. Whanne poyntelles of oure famous fyghte shall saie, Echone wylle marvelle atte the dernie dede, Echone wylle wyssen hee hanne seene the daie, 685 And bravelie holped to make the foemenn blede; Botte for yer holpe oure battelle wylle notte nede; Oure force ys force enowe to staie theyre honde; Wee wylle retourne unto thys grened mede, Oer corses of the foemen of the londe. 690 Nowe to the warre lette all the slughornes sounde, The Dacyanne troopes appere on yinder rysynge grounde. Chiefes, heade youre bandes, and leade. DANES _flyinge, neare_ WATCHETTE. FYRSTE DANE. Fly, fly, ye Danes; Magnus, the chiefe, ys sleene; The Saxonnes comme wythe Ælla atte theyre heade; 695 Lette's strev to gette awaie to yinder greene; Flie, flie; thys ys the kyngdomme of the deadde. SECONDE DANE. O goddes! have thousandes bie mie anlace bledde, And muste I nowe for safetie flie awaie? See! farre besprenged alle oure troopes are spreade, 700 Yette I wylle synglie dare the bloddie fraie. Botte ne; I'lle flie, & morther yn retrete; Deathe, blodde, & fyre, scalle[93] marke the goeynge of my feete. THYRDE DANE. Enthoghteynge forr to scape the brondeynge foe, As nere unto the byllowd beche I came, 705 Farr offe I spied a fyghte of myckle woe, Oure spyrynge battayles wrapte ynn sayles of flame. The burled Dacyannes, who were ynne the same, Fro syde to syde fledde the pursuyte of deathe; The swelleynge fyre yer corrage doe enflame, 710 Theie lepe ynto the sea, & bobblynge yield yer breathe; Whylest those thatt bee uponne the bloddie playne, Bee deathe-doomed captyves taene, or yn the battle slayne. HURRA.