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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
And the mountain 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 thy sky's dominion lone?
Chill and lone it well might be,
Yet that mighty wing was free!
