 | Lays of Leisure Hours |  |
86
BLACK HAGGARD,
A TRAINED HAWK.
Mount—mount, Black Haggard—soar away,And rise above thy shrieking prey,
The food-disgorging, fluttering heron
Which vainly seeks to 'scape—to turn;
Lo! the Black Haggard's fiery eye
Hath marked that proud form in the sky;
Let the eagle look for the Orient Sun,
Black Haggard's glance is fixed upon
That living mark which charms his sight,
From all the blaze of sunny light—
His living prey, his conscious prize,
That self-steered ship of the arching skies;
87
The noble bird—by fear possessed!
Mount—mount, Black Haggard—soar away,
And seize upon thy stately prey!
Ha! how he lightens up the sky,
Lessening upon the uplifted eye—
As though a sudden storm was sent
From earth unto the firmament;
Brave—brave Black Haggard—mount and soar,
Thou'st played the conqueror's part before,
And if proud courage be not vain,
Thou'lt play that conqueror's part again.
Right gallant, and undaunted thing,
Thou lightning Eye—thou tempest Wing!
'Tis sight and flight effect thy sway,
Mount—mount, Black Haggard!—soar away!
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