Why should I not as well eke tell you all The portraiture, that was upon the wall Within the temple of mighty Mars the Red? All painted was the wall in length and brede* *breadth Like to the estres* of the grisly place *interior chambers That hight the great temple of Mars in Thrace, In thilke* cold and frosty region, *that There as Mars hath his sovereign mansion. In which there dwelled neither man nor beast, With knotty gnarry* barren trees old *gnarled Of stubbes sharp and hideous to behold; In which there ran a rumble and a sough*, *groaning noise As though a storm should bursten every bough: And downward from an hill under a bent* *slope There stood the temple of Mars Armipotent, Wrought all of burnish’d steel, of which th’ entry Was long and strait, and ghastly for to see. And thereout came *a rage and such a vise*, *such a furious voice* That it made all the gates for to rise. The northern light in at the doore shone, For window on the walle was there none Through which men mighten any light discern. The doors were all of adamant etern, Y-clenched *overthwart and ende-long* *crossways and lengthways* With iron tough, and, for to make it strong, Every pillar the temple to sustain Was tunne-great*, of iron bright and sheen. *thick as a tun (barrel) There saw I first the dark imagining Of felony, and all the compassing; The cruel ire, as red as any glede*, *live coal The picke-purse<45>, and eke the pale dread; The smiler with the knife under the cloak, The shepen* burning with the blacke smoke *stable <46> The treason of the murd’ring in the bed, The open war, with woundes all be-bled; Conteke* with bloody knife, and sharp menace. *contention, discord All full of chirking* was that sorry place. *creaking, jarring noise The slayer of himself eke saw I there, His hearte-blood had bathed all his hair: The nail y-driven in the shode* at night, *hair of the head <47> The colde death, with mouth gaping upright. Amiddes of the temple sat Mischance, With discomfort and sorry countenance; Eke saw I Woodness* laughing in his rage, *Madness Armed Complaint, Outhees*, and fierce Outrage; *Outcry The carrain* in the bush, with throat y-corve**, *corpse **slashed A thousand slain, and not *of qualm y-storve*; *dead of sickness* The tyrant, with the prey by force y-reft; The town destroy’d, that there was nothing left. Yet saw I brent* the shippes hoppesteres, <48> *burnt The hunter strangled with the wilde bears: The sow freting* the child right in the cradle; *devouring <49> The cook scalded, for all his longe ladle. Nor was forgot, *by th’infortune of Mart* *through the misfortune The carter overridden with his cart; of war*