From peril, and from pain.

And now he sees, or thinks he sees
(His heart begins to pant)
A woman crawling on her knees,
Close to the Eagle's haunt.

It is thy mother, gallant boy,
Lo! up her figure springs:
She darts, unheard, with speechless joy
Between the Eagle's wings.

Behold! her arms its neck enchain,
And clasp her babe below:
Th' entangled bird attempts in vain
Its burthen to o'erthrow.

Now Heaven defend thee, mother bold,
Thy peril is extreme:
Thou'rt dead, if thou let go thy hold,
Scar'd by that savage scream;

And bravely if thou keep it fast,
What yet may be thy doom!
This very hour may be thy last,
That aerie prove thy tomb.

No! No! thank Heaven! O nobly done!
O marvellous attack!
I see thee riding in the sun,