Epic, Lyric, and Elegiac Poems of Andreas Libavius

Who, proud with our spoils and the captured IAVRUM Győr,
Was showing off his huge spirits in Tyrian purple?
For when the unwarlike woman was fleeing the Transalpine troops,
Senseless, and slowed by much slaughter,
Half-alive, she was awaiting death in the shameful reeds:
Whence being extracted again, with her strength repaired, she felt
The weapons were hostile to her, until, eaten away by plague, to the shades
She sent her indignant soul with much murmuring.
He then began to exhort in sleep, and to say such things:
Alas, flee, soldier, and snatch yourself away from these roofs at once:
The enemy holds the walls, and thunders tirelessly with arms.
We were of IAVRINUM Győr. Here, Solymannian Ottoman virtue is nothing,
The hands could do nothing validly, and he himself will fall
Who was given as a guard to the city. Those fates will await
You, and your allies. The huge STAMBOLIS Istanbul also totters,
And Charon builds the shade-bearing boats, and he has unusual
Joy for the miserable ones long since under the lowest Phlegethon.
Now even Strigonium Esztergom is to be held without force and much sweat
By Osmanic arts and treachery;
Hope has perished. For the fates have decreed to open the deceits, and the leader,
And to render rewards for evil deeds.
Thus he says, and sad, he mingled himself with the thin air.
Meanwhile, the hollow roofs resonate with a different tumult.
Now the Turks flee, now with life and exit denied
(For the enemy had blocked all the gates very quickly)
They rush back into arms, and eager through wounds they die.
Others are bound with knots and bronze.
The part where no safety appeared any longer for the conquered,
Enters the fortifications, and having scattered the mass burned
By violent fires, he exploded them into the upper airs.
Alas, cruel crime, they themselves fall monstrously,
The authors of the deed, and their lacerated faces are carried off.