Dim shapes of terror steal
Unmarked and menacing from clump to clump,
Whilst from the tangled scrub
Is heard the trampling elephant's angry trump.
The frolic tiger-cub
Tumbles in jungle-shambles; in his lair
The lion couches prone.
What does that wingéd portent in mid-air,
Hovering alert, alone?
Strong-pinioned, brazen-beaked, and iron-clawed,