Muffled with endless darkness, she did sit:
The night had never such a heavy spirit.
Yet might a penetrating[63] eye well see
How fast her clear tears melted on her knee
Through her black veil, and turn'd as black as it,
Mourning to be her tears. Then wrought her wit310
With her broke vow, her goddess' wrath, her fame,—
All tools that enginous[64] despair could frame:
Which made her strew the floor with her torn hair,
And spread her mantle piece-meal in the air.