One low churl compact of thankless earth
Peep’d—but his eyes, before they had their will
Were shrivelled into darkness in his head,
And she, that knew not, pass’d; and all at once
With twelve great shocks of sound, the shameless noon
Was clash’d and hammered from a hundred towers,
One after one: But even then she gained
Her bower; whence re-issuing, robed and crowned,
To meet her lord, she took the tax away
And built herself an everlasting name.