Poems (Sewell)/Lines on the Providential Escape of my Honoured Mother
For oh! from danger's awful brink, Eliza's form we see;How from that giant foe we shrink, Whene'er he aims at thee!
Oh! blest be Mercy's conq'ring powers! Our heartfelt praise is due—We felt Eliza's danger ours, And feel the rescue too!