All painted was the wall in length and brede[148] Like to the estres[149] of the grisly place, That hight the greate temple of Mars in Thrace, In thilke colde frosty region, There-as Mars hath his sovereign mansion. First on the wall was painted a forest, In which there dwelleth neither man ne beast, With knotty gnarry barren trees old Of stubbes[150] sharp and hideous to behold, In which there ran a rumble and a sough, As though a storm should bresten[151] every bough: And downward from an hill, under a bent,[152] There stood the temple of Mars armipotent, Wrought all of burned[153] steel, of which th' entry Was long and strait[154] and ghastly for to see. And thereout came a rage and such a vese,[155] That it made all the gates for to rese.[156] The northern light in at the doores shone, For window on the wall ne was there none Through which men mighten any light discern; The doors were all of adamant eterne, Yclenched overthwart and endelong[157] With iron tough, and for to make it strong, Every pillar the temple to sustene Was tunne-great,[158] of iron bright and sheen. There saw I first the dark imagining Of felony, and all the compassing; The cruel ire, red as any gleed,[159] The pickepurse, and eke the pale drede[160]; The smiler with the knife under the cloak; The shepen[161] brenning[162] with the blacke smoke; The treason of the murdering in the bed, The open war, with woundes all bebled; Contek[163] with bloody knife and sharp menace. All full of chirking[164] was that sorry place. The slayer of himself yet saw I there, His hearte-blood hath bathed all his hair: The nail ydriven in the shode[165] anight; The colde death, with mouth gaping upright.[166] Amiddes of the temple sat mischance, With discomfort and sorry countenance, Yet saw I woodness[167] laughing in his rage, Armed complaint, outhees,[168] and fierce outrage; The carrion[169] in the bush, with throat ycorven,[170] A thousand slain, and not of qualm[171] ystorven[172]; The tyrant with the prey by force yreft; The town destroyed, there was nothing left. Yet saw I brent[173] the shippes hoppesteres,[174] The hunte[175] strangled with the wilde bears: The sowe freten[176] the child right in the cradle; The cook yscalded, for all his longe ladle. Nought was forgotten by th' infortune of Marte; The carter overridden with his cart; Under the wheel full low he lay adown. There were also of Mars' division, The barber, and the butcher, and the smith That forgeth sharpe swordes on his stith.[177] And all above depainted in a tower Saw I Conquest, sitting in great honour, With the sharpe sword over his head Hanging by a subtle[178] twines thread. Depainted was the slaughter of Julius, Of great Nero, and of Antonius: Albe that thilke time they were unborn, Yet was hir death depainted therebeforn, By menacing of Mars, right by figure,