A deadly gulfe: where nought but rubbish grows,
With fowle blacke swelth in thickned lumps that lies,
Which vp in th’ayre[1525] such stinking vapors throws
That ouer there, may flie no fowle, but dyes
Choakt with the pestilent[1526] sauours that arise:
Hither wee come, whence forth wee still did pace,
In dreadfull feare amid the dreadfull place:
32.
And, first, within the porch and iawes of hell
Sate deepe Remorse of Conscience, all bee sprent