A high ambition swept my pulses through;
Gazing one day upon the eagle’s flight,
I pierced with him the heaven’s o’erarching blue,
And beat my pinions at the gates of light.
To-day the bird of Jove alone defies
The sun-god’s burning glance, the tempest’s roar;
I watch his flight unmoved, with listless eyes,
The bird I fondly wait for comes no more.
The lark pours forth his liquid flood of song,
Seeking the secret covert where love lies,