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.

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.

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.

For wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered
together.

For wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered
together.

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."

Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
read more

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!

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.

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.