67
“So doth Afonso, sudden seen the foes that urge their forward march securely brave, strike, slay, and scatter, raining doughty blows; flies the Moor King, who recks but self to save: Naught save a panick fear his spirit knows; his foll’owers eke to follow only crave; while ours, who struck a stroke so sore, so fell, were sixty horsemen told in fullest tale.