Thus I secure my prey!' As He said this, darting his talons into the Monk's shaven crown, He sprang with him from the rock.

The Caves and mountains rang with Ambrosio's shrieks.

The Daemon continued to soar aloft, till reaching a dreadful height, He released the sufferer.

Headlong fell the Monk through the airy waste; The sharp point of a rock received him; and He rolled from precipice to precipice, till bruised and mangled He rested on the river's banks.

Life still existed in his miserable frame: He attempted in vain to raise himself; His broken and dislocated limbs refused to perform their office, nor was He able to quit the spot where He had first fallen.