[♦] The splitting rocks cower’d in the sinking sands
And would not dash me with their ragged sides,
Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they,
100 Might in thy palace perish Eleanor.
[♦] As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from thy shore the tempest beat us back,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm,
And when the dusky sky began to rob
[105] My earnest-gaping sight of thy land’s view,
I took a costly jewel from my neck—