After the travayle my selfe for to ease, I did there reste in all goodly wyse, And slept right well without any disease, Till on the morow the sonne did aryse; Than up I rose, as was my perfyte guyse, And made me redy into the courte to go, With my verlet and greyhoundes also. The gentil porter, named Stedfastnes, Into the basse courte on my way he brought, Where stode a toure of mervaylous highnes, That al of jasper ful wonderly wrought, As ony man can printe in his thought; And foure ymages above the toure there were, On horsebacke, armed, and every one a spere. These ymages were made ful curiously, Wyth theyr horses of the stele so fyne, And eche of them, in theyr places sundry, About were sette that clerely dyd shyne, Lyke Dyane clere in her spere celestyne; And under eche horse there was, ful pryvely, A great whele made by craftly Geometry, Wyth many cogges, unto whiche were tyed Dyvers cordes that in the horses holowe To every joynte full wonderly applyed; Whan the wheles wente the horses dyd folowe, To trotte and galop both even and morowe, Brekynge theyr speres and coude them dyscharge, Partynge asonder for to turney at large. CAP. XXVII. OF THE MARVEYLOUS ARGUMENT BETWENE MARS AND FORTUNE. Besyde this toure of olde foundacion There was a temple strongly edefyed; To the high honoure and reputacyon Of the mighty Mars it was so fortefyed: And for to know what it signifyed I entred in, and sawe of golde so pure Of worthy Mars the mervaylous pycture. There was depaynted all about the wall The grete destruccion of the cite of Troye; And the noble actes do reygne memoryall Of the worthy Hector that was all theyr joye. His dolorus death was herde to occoye; And so whan Hector was cast all downe, The hardy Troylus was moost hyghe of renowne. And as I cast my syght so asyde, Beholdynge Mars how wonderly he stode, On a whele top with a lady of pryde Haunced aboute, I thought nothing but good, But that she had two faces in one hode; Yet I kneled adowne and made mine oryson, To doughty Mars, wyth grete devocyon. Sayenge: O Mars! O god of the warre! The gentyll lodesterre of an hardy herte, Dystyll adowne thy grace from so farre To cause all fere from me to astert: That in the felde I may ryght well subverte The hedyus monsters, and winne the victory Of the sturdy giauntes with famous chyvalry. O prynce of honour and of worthy fame! O noble knightes of olde antiquite! O redouted courage, the cause of theyr name, Whose worthy actes fame caused to be In bokes wrytten, as ye maye well se! So gyve me grace ryght well to secure The power of fame that shall long endure.