Stanza 62

The cloudes of dust, that from the wayes arose, Which in their martch, the trampling Troupes doe reare: When as the Sunne their thicknesse doth oppose In his descending, shining wondrous cleare, To the beholder farre off standing showes Like some besieged Towne, that were on fire: As though fore-telling e'r they should returne, That many a Citie yet secure must burne.