 | The bard, and minor poems |  |
TO THE EAGLE.
Majestic and noble art thou in thy flight,
And swift in thy course as the blast of the night;
Thy proud-glancing eye beameth bright as the sheen
Of the orb, which thou seek'st, in yon lovely serene;
And of all the wild birds of the mountain's stern brow,
No bird is so fierce, and so stately as thou.
And swift in thy course as the blast of the night;
Thy proud-glancing eye beameth bright as the sheen
Of the orb, which thou seek'st, in yon lovely serene;
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No bird is so fierce, and so stately as thou.
The wind rushes fiercely along the dark woods,
And rouses from slumber the deep mountain floods;
But thou, beauteous bird, sailest forth through the sky,
And towers in delight whilst the storm passeth by—
For the eagle is lord of the wing'd of the earth,
Then why should the tempest disturb his wild mirth?
And rouses from slumber the deep mountain floods;
But thou, beauteous bird, sailest forth through the sky,
And towers in delight whilst the storm passeth by—
For the eagle is lord of the wing'd of the earth,
Then why should the tempest disturb his wild mirth?
But the storm has gone down and is sunk into rest,
And the sun passeth on to his couch in the west—
The wrath of the torrent is changed into smiles,
And the azure-spread clouds into light-beaming isles;
And, see! how the full-breasted bird riseth up
To sip from the heavens as a god from his cup!
And the sun passeth on to his couch in the west—
The wrath of the torrent is changed into smiles,
And the azure-spread clouds into light-beaming isles;
And, see! how the full-breasted bird riseth up
To sip from the heavens as a god from his cup!
Oh! look at him now as he soars far away,
And seems to rejoice in the sun's burning ray;
Not the war-steed, nor lightning, go swifter than he,
Nor a thought o'er the mind, nor a wave o'er the sea,—
You almost might deem that his home was on high,
So proudly and gladly he sweeps through the sky.
And seems to rejoice in the sun's burning ray;
Not the war-steed, nor lightning, go swifter than he,
Nor a thought o'er the mind, nor a wave o'er the sea,—
You almost might deem that his home was on high,
So proudly and gladly he sweeps through the sky.
Thou art emblem, proud creature, of all that is great;
The poet, the warrior, the king in his state;
The brave, the triumphant, we liken to thee;
The bold, and the mighty, the noble, the free;
Yea, all that is noblest and best in our land,
We liken to thee, glorious bird of command!
The poet, the warrior, the king in his state;
The brave, the triumphant, we liken to thee;
The bold, and the mighty, the noble, the free;
Yea, all that is noblest and best in our land,
We liken to thee, glorious bird of command!
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The birds, at thy rising, start up from their rest,
And the fearful young doves closer creep in their nest;
The ravens are roused from the time-scorning rock,
And the wind-mocking deer rushes forth from his flock;
Even the fierce, lordly lion crawls back to his lair,
And growls out a curse on the King of the air!
And the fearful young doves closer creep in their nest;
The ravens are roused from the time-scorning rock,
And the wind-mocking deer rushes forth from his flock;
Even the fierce, lordly lion crawls back to his lair,
And growls out a curse on the King of the air!
And now hath the beautiful faded from sight,
And the sun had gone down in his raiment of light;
And the glory that circled around him is fled,
Like the light of an eye that is glassy and dead;
Even so, for a moment, our thoughts brightly soar:
Like the eagle they fade, and we see them no more.
And the sun had gone down in his raiment of light;
And the glory that circled around him is fled,
Like the light of an eye that is glassy and dead;
Even so, for a moment, our thoughts brightly soar:
Like the eagle they fade, and we see them no more.
| The bard, and minor poems | |