The Eagle.

By Walter R. Cassels

The winds sweep by him on his mountain throne, Hurling the clouds together at his feet, Till Earth is hidden, lost, and swallow'd up As in the flood of waters,--and he sits Eyeing the boundless firmament above, Proud and unruffled, till his heart exclaims,-- "I am a god, Heaven is my home,--the Earth Serveth me but for footstool." The strong winds Sweep on, and wide his pinions spreadeth he,-- "Bear me afar!" and on the mighty storm He rides triumphant, spurning the dim Earth-- Whither, O whither goest thou? What star Shall raise its mountains for thee? What far orb Echo the fierceness of thy battle-cry? What dost thou when the thunder is unloosed? "I sit amongst the crags, and feel the Earth Tremble beneath me, whilst my heart is firm. I gaze upon the lightning, and my lid Quivers not. Is their aught 'neath which my gaze Quaileth, or waxeth faint--I read the sun Undazzled where the stars grow dim and pale. "Men gather them to battle--host meets host-- And I am borne aloft to marshal them,-- I, the great King of Battles, that go forth Conquering and to conquer. So do men Worship me. Oh! the mighty crash ascends,-- The shoutings, and the glory, and the woe, One great full chaunt of homage to mine ears,-- And there I wait the while the sacrifice Is slain before me; then down with a swoop I get me from my skyey throne, and dye Deep in the ruddy stream my talons grey-- Hurrah! hurrah! blood red's the flag for me!" The time will come, proud one, when thou shalt die! "Die! Death I cast from me as these loose plumes That moult out from my pinions--let them go To Earth, and Death go with them, both I leave To mortals. What have I to do with Time? Let him pat forth his speed--these wings of mine Shall match him stroke for stroke, until we reach The limits of his empire, and I shake him off Like dust upon the threshold of the world."