Perch’d on the branches of an elm-tree lithe;
Forth jutting from the leaves, its beak so stark
Shone crook’d and polish’d as a reaper’s scythe.
As th’ ignis fatuus over marsh and mire
At midnight a malignant radiance flings;
Thus glared the giant bird with eyes of fire,
And gazed upon the roast, and clapp’d its wings.
Behold a dire mischance the cook befell!
Down fell the cloven trees! and with them fell
The ox! the eagle still with frightful leer