Page:Felicia Hemans in The Literary Gazette 1828.pdf/2



! this is not thy sphere! Warrior-bird, what seekst thou here? Wherefore by the fountain's brink Doth thy royal pinion sink? Wherefore on the violets' bed Layst thou thus thy drooping head? Thou, that holdst the blast in scorn, Thou, that wearst the wings of morn!

Eagle! wilt thou not arise? Look upon thine own bright skies! Lift thy glance!—the fiery sun There his pride of place hath won, And the mounting lark is there, And sweet sound hath fill'd the air. Hast thou left that realm on high? —Oh, it can be but to die!

Eagle, Eagle! thou hast bow'd From thine empire o'er the cloud! Thou that hadst ethereal birth, Thou hast stoop'd too near the earth, And the Hunter's shaft hath found thee, And the toils of Death have bound thee! —Wherefore didst thou leave thy place, Creature of a kingly race?

Wert thou weary of thy throne? Was the sky’s dominion lone? Chill and lone it well might be, Yet that mighty wing was free! Now the chain is o'er it cast, From thy heart the blood flows fast. —Wo for gifted souls and high! Is not such their destiny?