But when, from a lofty cliff, with threatening mien, 95
The baleful creature poised her wings to strike,
And, like a savage lion, lashed her tail,[1]
In act to spring; still did I dare my fate
And ask her riddle. Then with horrid sound
Of deadly jaws together crashed, she spake;
The while her claws, impatient of delay,
And eager for my vitals, rent the rock. 100
But the close-wrought words of fate with guile entwined,
And that dark riddle of the wingéd beast