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With all the garden, and the lustiness*. *pleasantness

Nor was forgot the porter Idleness,

Nor Narcissus the fair of *yore agone*, *olden times*

Nor yet the folly of King Solomon,

Nor yet the greate strength of Hercules,

Th' enchantments of Medea and Circes,

Nor of Turnus the hardy fierce courage,

The rich Croesus *caitif in servage.* *abased into slavery*

Thus may ye see, that wisdom nor richess,

Beauty, nor sleight, nor strength, nor hardiness

Ne may with Venus holde champartie*, *divided possession

For as her liste the world may she gie*. *guide

Lo, all these folk so caught were in her las* *snare

Till they for woe full often said, Alas!

Suffice these ensamples one or two,

Although I could reckon a thousand mo'.

The statue of Venus, glorious to see

Was naked floating in the large sea,

And from the navel down all cover'd was

With waves green, and bright as any glass.

A citole in her right hand hadde she,

And on her head, full seemly for to see,

A rose garland fresh, and well smelling,

Above her head her doves flickering

Before her stood her sone Cupido,

Upon his shoulders winges 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* *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, and eke the pale dread;

The smiler with the knife under the cloak,

The shepen* burning with the blacke smoke *stable

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

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, *burnt

The hunter strangled with the wilde bears:

The sow freting* the child right in the cradle; *devouring

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*

Under the wheel full low he lay adown.

There were also of Mars' division,

The armourer, the bowyer*, and the smith, *maker of bows

That forgeth sharp swordes on his stith*. *anvil