I was an eagle in my youthful pride,
When o’er the seas he came, with summer’s breath,
To dwell amidst us, on the lake’s green side.
Many the times of flowers have been since then—
Many, but bringing naught like him again!
“Not with the hunter’s bow and spear he came,
O’er the blue hills to chase the flying roe;
Not the dark glory of the woods to tame,
Laying their cedars, like the corn-stalks, low;
But to spread tidings of all holy things,