Not so, well-keyed into the solid stone, Groans upon Alpine height the castle good, When by rude Boreas' rage or Eurus' strown, Uptorn are ash and fir in mountain wood, As groans Sir Rodomont, with pride o'erblown, Inflamed with anger and with thirst of blood:
And, as the thunder and the lightning's fire Fly coupled, such his vengeance and his ire.