AElla rose lyche the tree besette wyth brieres;
    Hys talle speere sheenynge as the starres at nyghte, 745
    Hys eyne ensemeynge as a lowe of fyre;
    Whanne he encheered everie manne to fyghte,
    Hys gentle wordes dyd moove eche valourous knyghte;
    Itte moovethe ’hem, as honterres lyoncelle;
    In trebled armoure ys theyre courage dyghte; 750
    Eche warrynge harte forr prayse & rennome swelles;
    Lyche flowelie dynnynge of the croucheynge streme,
  Syche dyd the mormrynge sounde of the whol armie seme.

    Hee ledes ’hem onne to fyghte; oh! thenne to saie
    How AElla loked, and lokyng dyd encheere, 755
    Moovynge alyche a mountayne yn affraie,
    Whanne a lowde whyrlevynde doe yttes boesomme tare,
    To telle howe everie loke wulde banyshe feere,
    Woulde aske an angelles poyntelle or hys tyngue. 
    Lyche a talle rocke yatte ryseth heaven-were, 760
    Lyche a yonge wolfynne brondeous & strynge,
    Soe dydde he goe, & myghtie warriours hedde;
  Wythe gore-depycted wynges masterie arounde hym fledde.

    The battelle jyned; swerdes uponne swerdes dyd rynge;
    AElla was chased, as lyonns madded bee; 765
    Lyche fallynge starres, he dydde the javlynn flynge;
    Hys mightie anlace mightie menne dyd slea;
    Where he dydde comme, the flemed[97] foe dydde flee,
    Or felle benethe hys honde, as fallynge rayne,
    Wythe syke a fhuyrie he dydde onn ’hemm dree, 770
    Hylles of yer bowkes dyd ryse opponne the playne;
    AElla, thou arte—­botte staie, mie tynge; saie nee;
  Howe greate I hymme maye make, stylle greater hee wylle bee.

    Nor dydde hys souldyerres see hys actes yn vayne. 
    Heere a stoute Dane uponne hys compheere felle; 775
    Heere lorde & hyndlette sonke uponne the playne;
    Heere sonne & fadre trembled ynto helle. 
    Chief Magnus sought hys waie, &, shame to telle! 
    Hee soughte hys waie for flyghte; botte AElla’s speere
    Uponne the flyynge Dacyannes schoulder felle. 780
    Quyte throwe hys boddie, & hys harte ytte tare,
    He groned, & sonke uponne the gorie greene,
  And wythe hys corse encreased the pyles of Dacyannes sleene.

    Spente wythe the fyghte, the Danyshe champyons stonde,
    Lyche bulles, whose strengthe & wondrous myghte ys fledde; 785
    AElla, a javelynne grypped yn eyther honde,
    Flyes to the thronge, & doomes two Dacyannes deadde. 
    After hys acte, the armie all yspedde;
    Fromm everich on unmyssynge javlynnes flewe;
    Theie straughte yer doughtie swerdes; the foemenn bledde; 790
    Fulle three of foure of myghtie Danes dheie slewe;
    The Danes, wythe terroure rulynge att their head,
  Threwe downe theyr bannere talle, & lyche a ravenne fledde.