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 1    VI|      ire, his sandy locks he tore,~Our from his lips flew
 2    IX|  with his teeth the earth he tore,~Raging in death, and full
 3    IX|   that dead carcass rent and tore,~Like a fierce dog that
 4    XI|  rising morn,~The plough yet tore not up the fertile lay,~
 5    XI|      engines lost the Pagans tore~In pieces small, their rams
 6  XIII| earthquake hill and mountain tore,~Wherein the southern wind
 7   XVI|  attire in scorn he rent and tore,~For of his bondage vile
 8  XVII|   with her dear embrace,~She tore her locks, she smote her
 9   XIX|    cut, he wounded, mangled, tore and rent.~"To his victorious
10   XIX|      hinges from the wall it tore,~It broke the locks, and
11   XIX|   This said, she sighed, and tore her tresses fine,~And from
12    XX|   the dusty street~His horse tore with his teeth, bruised
13    XX|   neither bruised, cleft nor tore,~But in his saddle made
14    XX|  deft, his helm was rent and tore.~The dame, that saw his