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148

IV. PART IV.

The friend that warn'd him in his hour of pride
His downfall spied.
The modest bird, with fondly flutter'd breast,
Flew to the nest
Which she, who throws in sport o'er sea and land
(Beneath it spann'd)
The aëry bridge so exquisitely light
Of her bold flight,
Builds, safely shelter'd under low-thatch'd eaves,
Of clay and leaves.
There did she mourn, “Mistaken aspiration
Is self-damnation.
He who himself hath misappreciated,
Is twice ill-fated.
For what his nature never may attain
He pines in vain,
Whilst in his natural home, whate'er it be,
A stranger he!
Ah, hadst thou known the world as well as I,
Ne'er from on high
Wouldst thou have fallen, but hadst lived content
As nature meant.
Thee doth desire impel to thine unrest,
Me to my nest.”
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