Of her dominion, whence the eye looks down
On mountains shrunk to nothing, and the sea
Fretting in vain against its boundaries.
She sate, with chin thrust forward, listening
To the loud shouting and the ring of swords
On shields, that sounded from the crowded hall;
Where all her ancient bards were emulous
In praise, now, of her foes who feasted there.
Her humid cell was strown with rotten straw,
A roost of owls, and haunt of bats; the wind