University of Virginia Library

No, not in the meadow, and not on the shore;
And not on the wide heath with furze covered o'er,
Where the cry of the Plover, the hum of the bee,
Give a feeling of joyful security:
And not in the woods, where the Nightingale's song,
From the chestnut and orange pours all the day long;
And not where the Martin has built in the eaves,
And the Red-breast e'er covered the children with leaves,
Shall ye find the proud Eagle! O no, come away;
I will shew you his dwelling, and point out his prey!
Away! let us go where the mountains are high,
With tall splintered peak towering into the sky;
Where old ruined castles are dreary and lone,
And seem as if built for a world that is gone;
There, up on the topmost tower, black as the night,
Sits the old monarch Eagle in full blaze of light:
He is king of these mountains: save him and his mate,
No Eagle dwells here; he is lonely and great!
Look, look how he sits! with his keen glancing eye,
And his proud head thrown back, looking into the sky;
And hark to the rush of his out-spreading wings,
Like the coming of tempest, as upward he springs;
And now how the echoing mountains are stirred,
For that was the cry of the Eagle you heard!
Now, see how he soars! like a speck in the height
Of the blue vaulted sky, and now lost in the light!
And now downward he wheels as a shaft from a bow
By a strong archer sent, to the valleys below!
And that is the bleat of a lamb of the flock;—
One moment, and he re-ascends to the rock.—
Yes, see how the conqueror is winging his way,
And his terrible talons are holding their prey!

Great bird of the wilderness! lonely and proud,
With a spirit unbroken, a neck never bowed,
With an eye of defiance, august and severe,
Who scorn'st an inferior, and hatest a peer,
What is it that giveth thee beauty and worth?
Thou wast made for the desolate places of earth;
To mate with the tempest; to match with the sea;
And God shewed his power in the Lion and thee!