After the traitrous host of Scithians Entered the field with martial equipage, Young Albanact, impatient of delay, Led forth his army gainst the straggling mates, Whose multitude did daunt our soldiers' minds.
Yet nothing could dismay the forward prince, But with a courage most heroical, Like to a lion mongst a flock of lambs, Made havoc of the faintheart fugitives, Hewing a passage through them with his sword.
Yea, we had almost given them the repulse, When suddenly, from out the silent wood, Hubba, with twenty thousand soldiers, Cowardly came upon our weakened backs, And murthered all with fatal massacre.
Amongst the which old Debon, martial knight, With many wounds was brought unto the death, And Albanact, oppressed with multitude, Whilst valiantly he felled his enemies, Yielded his life and honour to the dust.
He being dead, the soldiers fled amain, And I alone escaped them by flight, To bring you tidings of these accidents.
LOCRINE.
Not aged Priam, King of stately Troy, Grand Emperor of barbarous Asia, When he beheld his noble minded sons Slain traitorously by all the Mermidons, Lamented more than I for Albanact.
GWENDOLINE.