Now, won't you try to rest a bit?
You're quite worn out with watching.
Rest! How could I be resting? And I mustn't be asleep
When he comes again to fetch me
What's that you're saying, Eleanor?
Fetch you! And him out by Hell Scar, a hundred fathom deep!

And think you he could slumber there
The livelong night without me —
He who must always turn to me before he goes to sleep?
For he never could rest easy
Till he'd held me in his arms awhile:
And he'll come to me though he lie ten thousand fathom deep.