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The Reliquary

By Bernard and Lucy Barton. With A Prefatory Appeal for Poetry and Poets

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 I. 
 II. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
TO A STUFFED EAGLE.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


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TO A STUFFED EAGLE.

Bird of the keen and piercing eye,
And pinion swift and strong,
To thee the cloud and cloudless sky,
And ocean-floods belong:
Thy empire is the craggy steep,
Haunt worthy of thy birth,
There, king-like, thou thy state dost keep
O'er sea, and sky, and earth!
The stormy blast, the roaring wave,
To thee no fear supply,
Nature their sternest music gave
To be thy lullaby;
And when thou wakenest in thy might;
Thy harsh and haughty tone,
While wheeling round in rapid flight,
Is thrilling as their own.
Then like an arrow from its string,
With motion swift and proud,
Borne on thy fleet and fearless wing
Thou cleav'st the murky cloud;

71

Thence darting swiftly on thy prey
Thou seek'st the billowy main,
And briefly hid by dashing spray
Upsoar'st to heaven again.
Here, although lifeless be thy form,
And motionless thy prize;
One born to battle with the storm
Thy attitude implies;
Thy curving neck, the ruffled plume
Of each uplifted wing,
Thy angry glance, thy victim's doom,
All speak the ocean-king!
And grateful may a poet be,
Like me forbid to roam,
This semblance to thy state to see
Where crested breakers foam:
'Tis like a glimpse of glories given,
Majestic, wild, and rude,
With thee on some cliff, rent, and riven,
To sway its solitude.