The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson ::

How rarely, by the outward show,
The inward soul can mortals know!
How gaudy flits the insect's wing,
While we gaze, heedless of its sting!
How lustrous to the startled eye
Seems the swift lightning, darting by!
But moralizing is so very old,
A fable shall, in lieu of it, be told.

Once on a time, an eagle bold,
(Appointed by his master, Jove,
O'er this terrestrial sphere to rove)
Held his high station on a sea-girt shore,
Where many a whit'ning billow roll'd,
Laving the strand with desolating roar!

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Long had he tow'r'd the sov'reign of the peak,
His cloud-roof'd nest defied the wind and rain;
A solitude sublime,
Sacred to deathless time!
No human foot the craggy height would seek,
Save where the ship-wreck'd soul, despairing, clung
On the wild weeds that round it hung,
Or wav'd fantastic, mocking the rous'd main!

There, 'mid the deaf'ning din of wind and wave,
This lordly bird his daring eye would roll;
And oft his pinions in the green-deep lave,
And oft, with rav'nous beak, the lesser birds control:
The curlew's yell, the bittern's hollow cry,
Wou'd greet the lofty despot passing by;
'Till all the neigh'bouring rocks were left, and he
Reign'd tyrant of the cliff that bound the raging sea.

Sick with the plenitude of pow'r,
This eagle, in a gloomy hour,
Regardless of his master, Jove,
Resolv'd to rove;
And, skimming o'er the waters wide,
Ambition-taught, a new dominion tried.
On th' ethereal floods of day,
He bent, with eager rage, his ardent way;

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With steady eye he view'd the solar blaze,
And bask'd, undazzled, in meridian rays;
Full on the western gale his course pursued,
And, with imperious pride, bath'd in the sunny flood!

To make my fable short, this bird,
Like many of ambition's race,
With consciousness of strength was grown absurd,
Or, plainer speaking, sought his own disgrace:
The bird of mighty Jove (thought he)
May scatter wide the bolts of destiny.
Away he flies!
Thirsting for carnage, eager to embrue
His talons in the streaming blood
Of lesser birds (more useful and more good:)
For this proud eagle knew no joy
Like that which prompts the pow'rful to destroy!

Soon to a distant scene he came,
Where, on a yellow, broomy heath,
Quaffing the dawn's resuscitating breath,
Waddled a flock of geese, peaceful and tame:
No tow'ring wings had they, but fed content
On stubble, or what bounteous nature sent;
And, till this luckless hour,
They felt, by an instinctive pow'r,

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That the wide mead, and golden heath,
The breezy morn, the sunny noon,
The dewy vale, soft twilight's breath,
Sighing its odours to the modest moon;
Skies, seasons, herbage, water, wind,
Were all for nature's commoners design'd;
That the world-fostering sun
O'er all his equal journey run:
Poor fools! they little knew that heav'n's best things
Were portion'd out by birds with eagle wings;
That all the lord of sunny lustre seizes,
He hovers o'er, and gives them what he pleases;
That is to say, he lets them all alone
Provided he may call the airy world—his own!

The eagle now was hov'ring near;
The geese look'd up askance, and gabbled loud with fear!
“Dull birds!” the sun-ey'd desolator cried,
“Soon in your panting hearts my talons shall be dy'd!
“Plebeian brawlers! you shall know
“That I was destin'd to subdue
“Such things as you!
“And crush your little empire base and low.
“Look at these eyes,
“Behold the fire that in them lies!
“View my resistless wing,
“Form'd from etherial heights to spring!

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“Tho' gaunt my lofty form,
“Toil-worn with many a busy storm,
“With restless nights and restless days,
“Still can I meet the sun with dauntless gaze;
“That sun which lends me all his light,
“And sanctions my aërial flight:
“Plebeians bold,
“Shrink and behold!”

“Well!” cried a gander, fierce and old,
“We listen, and we do behold!
“We hear thee arrogant and vain,
“Disturbing this our peaceful plain!
“We know that fate has giv'n thee pow'r
“O'er earth, and oceans vast, to scow'r;
“But what attends thy lofty flight?
“Do you not ravage all you find,
“Filling the harmless with affright,
“And mangling our defenceless kind?
“Shame on such cruel sport, away!
“Go hide thy meager form in shades,
“Brave not the redden'd front of day,
“But skulk in cavern'd rocks and gloomy glades.
“No use art thou to human-kind;
“For tho' with crimson rag, our race
“Is driv'n to slaughter and disgrace,
“Still are we for some good design'd:

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“And tho' we yield our little breath,
“We save the creature man from death:
“We feed him, and he finds his ends
“In making humble birds his friends:
“While fierce despoilers, such as thee,
“But dash with bitter woes our cup of destiny!”

So says the fable! Let the eagle's wing
Above such lowly teachers fly;
For harmless, humble, peaceful birds, I sing,
Their fellow-commoner, and nature's laureat, I!

University of Virginia Library

ODE.

THE EAGLE AND FLOCK OF GEESE.