The fight on the Kowenstyn was to be long remembered in the military annals of Spain and Holland.

Never, since the curtain first rose upon the great Netherland tragedy, had there been a fiercer encounter.

Flinching was impossible.

There was scant room for the play of pike and dagger, and, close packed as were the combatants, the dead could hardly fall to the ground.

It was a mile-long series of separate mortal duels, and the oozy dyke was soon slippery with blood.
From both sides, under Capizucca and Aquila on the one band, and under Alexander on the other, the entrenchments of the patriots were at last assaulted, and as the royalists fell thick and fast beneath the breast-work which they were storming, their comrades clambered upon their bodies, and attempted, from such vantage-ground, to effect an entrance.
Three times the invaders were beaten back with heavy loss, and after each repulse the attack was renewed with fresh vigour, while within the entrenchments the pioneers still plied the pick and shovel, undismayed by the uproar around them.
A fourth assault, vigorously made, was cheerfully repelled by the Antwerpers and Hollanders, clustering behind their breast-works, and looking steadily into their enemies' eyes.