alle thee tare. 
    Thou there dysperpellest[69] thie levynne-bronde;
    Whylest mie soulgh’s forwyned, thou art the gare; 415
    Sleene ys mie comforte bie thie ferie honde;
    As somme talle hylle, whann wynds doe shake the ground,
  Itte kerveth all abroade, bie brasteynge hyltren wounde.

    Honnoure, whatt bee ytte? tys a shadowes shade,
    A thynge of wychencref, an idle dreme; 420
    On of the fonnis whych the clerche have made
    Menne wydhoute sprytes, and wommen for to fleme;
    Knyghtes, who efte kenne the loude dynne of the beme,
    Schulde be forgarde to syke enfeeblynge waies,
    Make everych acte, alyche theyr soules, be breme, 425
    And for theyre chyvalrie alleyne have prayse. 
      O thou, whatteer thie name,
        Or Zabalus or Queed,
      Comme, steel mie sable spryte,
        For fremde[70] and dolefulle dede. 430

  MAGNUS, HURRA, and HIE PREESTE, wyth the ARMIE, neare Watchette.

  MAGNUS.

    Swythe[71] lette the offrendes[72] to the Goddes begynne. 
    To knowe of hem the issue of the fyghte. 
    Potte the blodde-steyned sword and pavyes ynne;
    Spreade swythyn all arounde the hallie lyghte.

  HIE PREESTE syngeth.

      Yee, who hie yn mokie ayre 435
      Delethe seasonnes foule or fayre,
      Yee, who, whanne yee weere agguylte,
      The mone yn bloddie gyttelles[73] hylte,
      Mooved the starres, and dyd unbynde
      Everyche barriere to the wynde; 440
      Whanne the oundynge waves dystreste,
      Stroven to be overest,
      Sockeynge yn the spyre-gyrte towne,
      Swolterynge wole natyones downe,
      Sendynge dethe, on plagues astrodde, 445
      Moovynge lyke the erthys Godde;
      To mee send your heste dyvyne,
      Lyghte eletten[74] all myne eyne,
      Thatt I maie now undevyse
      All the actyonnes of th’empprize. 450
                         [falleth downe and efte rysethe.
    Thus sayethe the Goddes; goe, yssue to the playne;
    Forr there shall meynte of mytte menne bee slayne.

  MAGNUS.

    Whie, foe there evere was, whanne Magnus foughte. 
    Efte have I treynted noyance throughe the hoaste,
    Athorowe swerdes, alyche the Queed dystraughte, 455
    Have Magnus pressynge wroghte hys foemen loaste. 
    As whanne a tempeste vexethe soare the coaste,
    The dyngeynge ounde the sandeie stronde doe tare,
    So dyd I inne the warre the javlynne toste,
    Full meynte a champyonnes breaste received mie spear. 460
    Mie sheelde, lyche sommere morie gronfer droke,
  Mie lethalle speere, alyche a levyn-mylted oke.