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.

So, in the Libyan fable it is told
That once an eagle, stricken with a dart,
Said, read more

So, in the Libyan fable it is told
That once an eagle, stricken with a dart,
Said, when he saw the fashion of the shaft,
"With our own feathers, not by others' hand
Are we now smitten."

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.

That eagle's fate and mine are one,
Which, on the shaft that made him die,
Espied a read more

That eagle's fate and mine are one,
Which, on the shaft that made him die,
Espied a feather of his own,
Wherewith he wont to soar so high.

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.

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.

And little eagles wave their wings in gold.

And little eagles wave their wings in gold.

Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens?
If all the world were falcons, what of that?
read more

Shall eagles not be eagles? wrens be wrens?
If all the world were falcons, what of that?
The wonder of the eagle were the less,
But he not less the eagle.

My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax; no levelled read more

My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax; no levelled malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold,
But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.