The statue of Venus, glorious to see Was naked floating in the largë sea, And from the navel down all cover’d was With wavës green, and bright as any glass. A citole in her right hand haddë she, And on her head, full seemly for to see, A rosë garland fresh, and well smelling, Above her head her dovës flickering. Before her stood her sonë Cupido, Upon his shoulders wingës had he two; And blind he was, as it is often seen; A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen.
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 Like to the estres of the grisly place That hight the great temple of Mars in Thrace, In thilkë cold and frosty región, There as Mars hath his sovereign mansión. First on the wall was painted a forést, In which there dwelled neither man nor beast, With knotty gnarry barren treës old Of stubbës sharp and hideous to behold; In which there ran a rumble and a sough, As though a storm should bursten every bough: And downward from an hill under a bent, 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, That it made all the gatës for to rise. The northern light in at the doorë shone, For window on the wallë was there none Through which men mighten any light discern. The doors were all of adamant etern, Y-clenched overthwart and endëlong With iron tough, and, for to make it strong, Every pillar the temple to sustain Was tunnë-great, of iron bright and sheen. There saw I first the dark imagining Of felony, and all the compassing; The cruel ire, as red as any glede, The pickëpurse, and eke the palë dread; The smiler with the knife under the cloak, The shepen burning with the blackë smoke; The treason of the murd’ring in the bed, The open war, with woundës all be-bled; Conteke with bloody knife, and sharp menace. All full of chirking was that sorry