Harbour?
She kept harbour too long; she is mangled, she is torn.

Touch not the Lion's prey, Leopard.

You go hunting too late--for all but sorrow and shame.' Richard stretched not his hand again; his jaw dropped and most of the strong colour died down in his face.

Turned to stone, stiff and immovable, he sat staring at the singer, while Bertran, biting his lip, still grinning and twitching with his late effort, watched him.
'Give me the truth, thou.' His voice was like an old man's, hollow.
'As God is in heaven that is the truth, Richard,' said Bertran de Born.
The Count's head went up, as when a hound yelps to the sky: laughter ensued, barking laughter--not mirth, not grief disguised, but mockery, the worst of all.

One on the gallery nudged his fellow; that other shrugged him off.