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Poems by Bernard Barton

Fourth Edition, with Additions
 

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TO THE GALLIC EAGLE.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


89

TO THE GALLIC EAGLE.

Fame's favourite minion!
The theme of her story;
How quail'd is thy pinion,
How sullied its glory:
Where blood flow'd like water,
Exulting it bore thee!
Destruction and slaughter
Behind and before thee.
Where glory was blushing,
Thy flight was the fleetest;
Where death's sleep was hushing,
Thy slumber was sweetest.
When broad-swords were clashing,
Thy cry was the loudest;
When deep they were gashing,
Thy plume was the proudest.
But, triumph is over;
No longer victorious,
No more shalt thou hover,
Destructively glorious!

90

Far from the battle's shock,
Fate hath fast bound thee;
Chain'd to the rugged rock,
Waves warring round thee.
Instead of the trumpet's sound,
Sea-birds are shrieking;
Hoarse on thy rampart's bound,
Billows are breaking.
The standards which led thee
Are trampled and torn now;
The flatteries which fed thee
Are turn'd into scorn now.
For ensigns unfurling,
Like sunbeams in brightness;
Are crested waves curling,
Like snow-wreaths in whiteness.
No sycophants mock thee
With dreams of dominion;
But rude tempests rock thee,
And ruffle thy pinion.
Thy last flight is taken,
Hope leaves thee for ever:
And victory shall waken
Thy proud spirit never!