That grazed it, stood beneath that ample cope
Uncrowded, yet safe shelter’d from the storm.
*****
Embowell’d now, and of thy ancient self
Possessing nought but the scoop’d rind, that seems
A huge throat calling to the clouds for drink,
Which it would give in rivulets to thy roots;
Thou temptest none, but rather much forbidd’st
The feller’s toil, which thou wouldst ill requite.
Yet is thy root sincere, sound as a rock: