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The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that read more
The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings
He can at pleasure stint their melody:
Even so mayest thou the giddy men of Rome.
Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
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Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
See their own feathers pluck'd, to wing the dart,
Which rank corruption destines for their heart!
The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby.
The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby.
Tho' he inherit
Not the pride, nor ample pinion,
That the Theban eagle bear,
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Tho' he inherit
Not the pride, nor ample pinion,
That the Theban eagle bear,
Sailing with supreme dominion
Thro' the azure deep of air.
Last night the very gods showed me a vision--
I fast and prayed for their intelligence--thus:
I read more
Last night the very gods showed me a vision--
I fast and prayed for their intelligence--thus:
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, winged
From the spongy south to this part of the west,
There vanished in the sunbeams; which portends,
Unless my sins abuse my divination,
Success to th' Roman host.
Around, around in ceaseless circles wheeling
With clangs of wings and scream, the Eagle sailed
Incessantly.
Around, around in ceaseless circles wheeling
With clangs of wings and scream, the Eagle sailed
Incessantly.
So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
Viewed read more
So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart,
And wing'd the shaft that quivered in his heart.
And little eagles wave their wings in gold.
And little eagles wave their wings in gold.
Bird of the broad and sweeping wing,
Thy home is high in heaven,
Where wide the storms read more
Bird of the broad and sweeping wing,
Thy home is high in heaven,
Where wide the storms their banners fling,
And the tempest clouds are driven.