As though a storm sholde bresten every bough;
And dounward from an hille, under a bente,
Ther stood the temple of Mars armypotente,
Wroght al of burned steel, of which the entree
Was long and streit, and gastly for to see.
The northern light in at the dores shoon,
For wyndowe on the wal ne was ther noon
Thurgh which men myghten any light discern,
The dores were al of adament eterne,
Y-clenched overthwart and endelong