As painctyd Bruton, when a wolfyn wylde,
    When yt is cale and blustrynge wyndes do blowe,
    Enters hys bordelle, taketh hys yonge chylde,
    And wyth his bloude bestreynts the lillie snowe,
    He thoroughe mountayne hie and dale doth goe, 635
    Throwe the quyck torrent of the bollen ave,
    Throwe Severne rollynge oer the sandes belowe
    He skyms alofe, and blents the beatynge wave,
    Ne stynts, ne lagges the chace, tylle for hys eyne
  In peecies hee the morthering theef doth chyne. 640

    So Alfwoulde he dyd to Campynon haste;
    Hys bloudie bylle awhap’d the Normannes eyne;
    Hee fled, as wolfes when bie the talbots chac’d,
    To bloudie byker he dyd ne enclyne. 
    Duke Wyllyam stroke hym on hys brigandyne, 645
    And sayd; Campynon, is it thee I see? 
    Thee? who dydst actes of glorie so bewryen,
    Now poorlie come to hyde thieselfe bie mee? 
    Awaie! thou dogge, and acte a warriors parte. 
  Or with mie swerde I’ll perce thee to the harte. 650

    Betweene Erie Alfwoulde and Duke Wyllyam’s bronde
    Campynon thoughte that nete but deathe coulde bee,
    Seezed a huge swerde Morglaien yn his honde,
    Mottrynge a praier to the Vyrgyne: 
    So hunted deere the dryvynge hounds will flee, 655
    When theie dyscover they cannot escape;
    And feerful lambkyns, when theie hunted bee,
    Theyre ynfante hunters doe theie oft awhape;
    Thus stoode Campynon, greete but hertlesse knyghte,
  When feere of dethe made hym for deathe to fyghte. 660

    Alfwoulde began to dyghte hymselfe for fyghte,
    Meanewhyle hys menne on everie syde dyd slee,
    Whan on hys lyfted sheelde withe alle hys myghte
    Campynon’s swerde in burlie-brande dyd dree;
    Bewopen Alfwoulde fellen on his knee; 665
    Hys Brystowe menne came in hym for to save;
    Eftsoons upgotten from the grounde was hee,
    And dyd agayne the touring Norman brave;
    Hee graspd hys bylle in syke a drear arraie,
  Hee seem’d a lyon catchynge at hys preie. 670

    Upon the Normannes brazen adventayle
    The thondrynge bill of myghtie Alfwould came;
    It made a dentful bruse, and then dyd fayle;
    Fromme rattlynge weepons shotte a sparklynge flame;
    Eftsoons agayne the thondrynge bill ycame, 675
    Peers’d thro hys adventayle and skyrts of lare;
    A tyde of purple gore came wyth the same,
    As out hys bowells on the feelde it tare;
    Campynon felle, as when some cittie-walle
  Inne dolefulle terrours on its mynours falle. 680