Loud they clanged the peal of battle;
Like the cry of vultures wild
O’er the lone paths fitful-wheeling,[n7]
With their plumy oarage oaring
Over the nest by the spoiler spoiled,
The nest dispeopled now and bare,
Their long but fruitless care.
But the gods see it: some Apollo,
Pan or Jove, the wrong hath noted,
Heard the sharp and piercing cry