She raised her eyes at last, and saw the sun

  Had turned his back on Bocchus' towers and wall;

  Then, like a cormorant, his journey done,

  Into his nurse's lap beheld him fall,

  Beyond Marocco; and for her to run

  To tree, for shelter from the rising squall,

  Had been a foolish thought; for now 'gan blow

  A blustering wind, which threatened rain or snow.